The Stone Queen
by MayGirl85
Summary: Sarah flees with Toby to the Underground when the death of their parents threatens to separate them. But civil war looms, placing the Goblin Crown under challenge from those whom would dare to take it. As Seelie and Unseelie prepare for battle, a new power rises in the east - The Stone King, whose power it is said could turn the tide of the coming war.
1. Chapter 1

It's been a while since I published any fanfiction. Been busy the last few years. I have however discovered _Labyrinth _and have subsequently been inspired to write

_The Stone Queen_

Its currently a Work In Progress (WIP) but I know where its going and have the ending all sorted. I thought publishing it would help motivate me to keep it going. Reviews help too (hint hint nudge nudge!).

I'm rating this (M) according to the rating standard "for mature teenagers 13 years +". There's going to be war and some hanky panky, but nothing graphic or gratuitous (that I've planned) - only what's necessary to the story.

Hope you like it.

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Summary:

In secret, Sarah flees with Toby to the Underground when the death of their parents threatens to separate them. There, she hides under the very nose of he whom claims Toby as his Chosen Heir. But civil war has been brewing in the Underground for over a millenia. The Unseelie fae Mordred, full of vengeance and a yen for power, seeks to claim the title of High King. Alliances are made and broken as Seelie and Unseelie prepare for a war that will change the face of the Underground forever. With his heir missing and no consort to stabilise his position as Goblin King, Jareth must fight to preserve his crown and kingdom from those whom would dare challenge for the Throne. Meanwhile, in the east, a new power rises - The Stone King, whose power it is said could turn the tide of the coming war.

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**Chapter 1**

Aboveground : September 1984-Mid 1986

Underground: 10 Years Since _Labyrinth_

Sarah Williams was a changed girl. Her parents couldn't quite say how, but they could pin point when. One September night, 1984, they had left behind a spoiled, selfish brat to go on a date, and returned to find a young woman. She wasn't perfect. She had her moments. But Sarah Williams was a changed girl. In the months that followed that night Sarah showed greater maturity and acceptance of her new family. She took up chores without complaint, stayed ahead of her school work, and much more surprisingly took greater interest in her little brother, Toby. It was a happy time in the Williams household.

But tragedy was lurking around the corner, and a year later when Sarah was not yet 16, it struck. Robert and Karen were sadly killed in a car accident by a drunk driver having run a red light. The loss was devastating to Sarah, for she had only just begun to know her parents. She grieved for herself and for Toby, who would never know them. Greater tragedy threatened when Sarah learned she may be separated from Toby.

After the death of her father, Sarah and Toby were put into the care of Sarah's mother, Linda, whom took the children in under great duress. Linda had no time for children – she'd left her Sarah as a child to follow her dreams years ago and had not regretted it since. Now it seemed she would be put upon by _two_ children. It was a sad situation. Neither Robert nor Karen had any living siblings. Robert had been an only child, and Karen's brother had died many years ago. Robert's parents, Sarah and Toby's grandparents, too had passed on, whilst only Karen's mother remained – and that lady was under care in a nursing home. Truly there was no one to whom Linda could turn to unburden her of these children. She enjoyed her wild ways and parties, despite her age.

It was by accident, a few months past the sibling's first Christmas without their parents, Sarah learned of Linda's feelings, or rather lack thereof, toward herself and Toby. Linda often threw parties. They were wild raves that reminded Sarah of a much more dire version of a certain ballroom. Drugs and alcohol abounded, and one night Linda drunkenly confessed to no one in particular that she was thinking Sarah would benefit from being sent to boarding school. Then Linda asked, again of no one in particular, if perhaps Toby would be better off with a loving family? She certainly couldn't provide a _home _for a baby. Linda got not further, for she promptly passed out. But Sarah had heard every word.

Knowing she would never achieve emancipation from Linda and that she could not protect Toby in a world where the law dictated she was too young to care for him, Sarah put a plan into motion. Perhaps she had other choices. Perhaps things might have gone differently. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way. Whatever the possibilities, they did not matter for Sarah decided that she would take Toby and run away to the Underground. There she had friends who could help her; friends who had stayed with her through thick and thin. Here, she had no one. Here, she stood to lose her only family (Linda now excluded). There was but one snare in her plan: the Goblin King.

Sarah knew the Goblin King wanted Toby. He had gone to great lengths to keep Toby, and she had matured enough to respect that the King was a formidable opponent. She could not allow him to know of her return. Thus, with grave purpose, Sarah carefully formulated a plan. It saddened her to exclude Hoggle and Sir Didymus from the plan. Hoggle was too afraid of the Goblin King to help her without hindering her, and Sir Didymus too honourable to deceive his master. It was Ludo to whom she turned for aide. Ludo, whose simple loyalty and fearlessness would see her through.

Sarah was careful in her planning. For weeks she secretly spoke with Ludo through a small compact mirror. Though Ludo was of few words, he did not lack intelligence. He understood what was needed and saw to his end of seeing Sarah into the Underground. It was not long before the giant bid goodbye to Sir Didymus and Hoggle, saying "Ludo go." They took it on face value, never questioning why. The Goblin King didn't notice the beast's absence at all.

On her side, Sarah drew together all the baubles and valuables she could gather. She understood the Underground to deal in items of beauty and precious metals as currency. She hoped to gather sufficient funds to support herself and Toby until she could earn their keep. It turned out to be fortunate for Sarah to be living with Linda. Her mother adored pretty things and did not bother to hide them. Sarah did not want to be a thief, but needs must and she did what was necessary. Over several weeks she gathered her treasures, and when the time came took Toby and left this world for the Underground. All that she left behind was a note:

_Linda,_

_I'm gone and have taken Toby with me. I heard what you said, and I won't let you separate us. Don't bother looking for me. You won't find us. Goodbye._

_Sarah_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Aboveground : Late 1986

Underground : 12 Years After Labyrinth

Map of the Underground available at DeviantArt - Look for maygirl85

The disappearance of the Williams children did not go unnoticed for long. Linda, when she rose from her drug-and-alcohol fuelled daze soon realised the loss of most of her jewellery. Immediately she contacted the police and several investigators for good measure. She had spent a considerable amount on her jewels and she wanted them returned. It was not until the police, in the course of their initial interview with the distraught woman, queried the whereabouts of any other occupants of the house that she realised Sarah was gone, and had taken Toby with her. From there, news of the runaway had quickly taken on a life of its own, with Linda at the centre of the storm. It was the best media attention she'd received in years. Ever the actress, Linda acted it up and the coverage renewed her flagging career.

It was Hoggle whom was the first Underground to realise Sarah had gone missing, though many months had passed Aboveground and even longer Underground. Time passes differently between the Above and Below. A year Above could mean a year, or two or a dozen had passed Below. It was sheer luck that Hoggle realised more than a half year had passed Above since Sarah had contacted him. It was too long a time. When meeting through the mirror Sarah had always spoken with him in terms 'last week' or 'the week before that', not 'weeks ago' or 'last month'.

Hoggle had not expected Sarah to remember him, or if she did to have slowly forgotten. The weeks would pass and then months and eventually she would grow up. But she hadn't. Sarah had remained a true friend. So when Hoggle realised Sarah had gone missing, he reacted as a true friend.

"You dirty, scheming, evil, _rat_!"

The Goblin King felt the full force of Hoggle's wrath.

"I's _knew_ you couldn't handle losing to her! I's _knew_ you's been too quiet. Now I see's I's right. You's plotted and schemed against her! What have you done?!"

The Goblin King looked upon the angry hobgoblin with sneering amusement, goblins chittering about him in the throne room, "I see you've found your courage, Hogbreath-"

"_HOGGLE!_"

Jareth continued on as if the interruption hadny occurred, "-You dare address your king with so little respect?"

His words were clipped and dangerous, but Hoggle barrelled on.

"I's dare as much as I's need for her!"

Jareth waved the riding crop disdainfully, "All this fuss for an ungrateful, selfish girl who has merely forgotten you. Really Hedgewart-"

"_HOGGLE!"_

"_-_You should be so surprised. She was going to forget eventually."

Hoggle stamped a tiny foot, "She's not be forgetting!"

"Oh," Jareth's tone was doubtful, "How do you know this?"

"Because I's went -," Hoggle slammed a hand over his mouth as he realised what he'd been about to reveal.

Jareth stilled, filled with righteous kingly anger. He sat up straight upon his throne, and looked as a monarch upon his errant subject.

"You. Went. Where?"

Hoggle shook his head, hand still over his mouth.

"Answer me."

Hoggle choked on the imperative. A subject of the Labyrinth, he was obliged to answer his King.

"Aboveground."

"Everybody out."

The King's command was soft, but obeyed with a flurry of fearful fleeing through doors and windows not usually seen in the Goblin Kingdom. Jareth glared at the cowering hobgoblin who trembled before him.

"You broke the sacred law. You -," Jareth stood with a curse, "You risked being caught by mortals. You broke the sacred law and put _your KING_ in danger of challenge. You likely tore through the fabric separating worlds though by what fool luck you managed to make it there _and _back I cannot at this moment fathom. You placed the lives of countless creatures in peril, and let's not forget," Jareth enunciated with a feral smile, "You disrespected your king in a public court; just the cherry to top off the list of your crimes."

"I's not sor-"

"You will _not _speak unless I command it!"

Hoggle's thick lips trembled with the effort, but he could not hold himself silent, "_No!_ I's _know_ Sarah is not forgetting," he protested, shrieking when the Goblin King turned upon him, "_I's PROOF!_"

Jareth stopped mid-swing of the crop that had been intended to whip the disrespectful, seditious little mongrel that had tried his patience to its last.

"Proof? What proof?"

Hoggle pulled a crumpled note from his pocket. Jareth took it from the grubby little fingers reading from it '_Dear Linda, I've left –_

Jareth rolled his eyes and waved the paper with a disdainful hand. He looked at Hoggle, an eyebrow quirked, "So the girl has run away from home in fit of pique. Undoubtedly she'll return in a few days when she's hungry. Mortal girls do such things. Her actions are foolish but she is in no immediate danger. You, however, must be punished. Your actions constitute a direct threat against the kingdom and this I cannot ignore. It's the mines for you. The bog is insufficient punishment for your crimes."

Hoggle still cowered, but nodded once in understanding. His brown eyes, however, still held questions and for some reason Jareth indulged the irritatingl little turd.

"Speak you hare-brained twit. Consider them your last words before the goblins _escort_ you away."

"It's been mor'than ten years an' she's never forgets. We talks almost every month."

Jareth turned away with a sigh. Truly reigning over such fools threatened his sanity at times.

"You know time moves differently between Above and Below. A few months Below is often nothing above."

Hoggle shifted on his little hobgoblin feet, "She's been gone for months _Above_, yer majesty."

The honorific wasn't lost on the King.

"How long?"

"Six, maybe seven months have passed Above. Two-"

"Two years Below," Jareth acknowledged,_ Had it really been two years?_ _And ten more years added to that since she had run my Labyrinth and taken back the child,_ he frowned. It felt like only yesterday since he'd sat outside the boy's window, a silent sentinel watching over the sleeping babe. It had not been a year ago Above when he'd last set eyes on Toby and the girl sleeping peacefully in their beds. But it had been much longer Underground; almost three years since that night now. Three years since he'd seen the babe with the power of voodoo. Jareth's hand clenched on the note in his fist and with growing alarm raised the note to his eyes.

'_Dear Linda, I've left and have taken Toby with me. I heard what you said, and I won't let you separate us. Don't bother looking for me. You won't find us. Goodbye. Sarah._

Toby. Sarah had taken Toby with her. She had taken his Heir.

It hadn't been the end of his world when Sarah had taken back her brother. He'd offered her everything to stay, and she had rejected it. That was her choice. Jareth was not one to play the martyr – the misunderstood misanthrope. He was not so far gone in his little infatuation with the infuriating brat as to lose sight of the larger picture. He restrained a sigh, aware of Hoggle's presence behind him.

Politics Underground had been a broiling mass of polite civility heading toward civil war for hundreds of years now. It was not unexpected – these things happened Underground every thousand or so years. It was inevitable. Still, it was an inconvenience that put his throne at stake. Without a consort or heir, the Labyrinth became a prime target for some young lordling to try his luck at taking on the Goblin King. It had been serendipitous that an heir had almost literally fallen into his lap ten years ago on the whim of a selfish 14 year old girl. There was power about the boy. Some strange voodoo that hinted at great promise. Jareth cared not for the life the boy would leave behind. Tobias was and would be forevermore _his_. In the time it took the girl to run the Labyrinth, Jareth had taken steps to name the boy as Chosen. Now Toby was missing, and Jareth had no way to find the boy while he was in the power of the girl over whom he had no power. How infuriating.

"Well, Hedgewart. In light of this new information-"

Hoggle coughed, and Jareth was certain the little twerp had muttered _Hoggle_ under his breath.

"-I am willing to stay your punishment. For now."

Hoggle stared at him from beady eyes, "That's all?"

Jareth's lips stretched over sharp teeth in not-quite-a-smile, "In return for my generosity," Jareth ignored Hoggle's mutinous glare, "You will assist my goblins in finding the girl and her brother. After all," he said reasonably, "The girl _is _a champion and deserving of some kingly notice, and I have a soft spot for young Toby. Yes," he said, stroking his chin, "The Goblin Court is obliged to provide assistance in such a case as this."

That, at least, would be the excuse for allowing his goblins to run rampant Above for a time if the purveyors of dire consequences descended upon him. It was a fine line. If push came to shove, he would have to announce the babe as his heir. The Underground was aware an heir had been chosen, just not whom the heir was exactly.

Hoggle stood straight, puffing out his fat little chest, "I's not help you hurts her!"

Jareth rolled his eyes again, "I promise not to hurt the girl. There – you have my word. Now get thee gone, before I change my mind."

Hoggle scurried from the King's presence with unexpected speed. His exit allowed the King to flop onto his throne, a hand cradling his chin. Immediately Jareth called a crystal to him, hoping to see the child, but no image filled the crystal. It seemed that Toby was indeed with the girl. Worried and filled with the concern of a parent, Jareth stayed the night exactly as he was, intermittently checking his crystal on the slim chance that Toby's cherubic face would appear to him. It did not.


	3. Chapter 3

I realise I've been setting up the story in the last 2 chapters and there hasn't been much 'action'. The next 2 chapters continue to set up the players, after which we get into the action. I currently have 6 chapters written, and just so you know I have the plot outlined and know where its going and what the ending will be. It's a J/S eventually, but I like adventure more than romance. Save the best for last and all that…

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**Chapter 3**

Aboveground : Mid 1986

Underground : Not quite 11 Years After _Labyrinth_

Down in the Underground, you'll find someone true…

It had taken weeks for Sarah to make her escape to the Underground with Toby. It hadn't been some fool notion to run away to the land of the fairies. She had given much thought to the decision and done her level best to plan the getaway. Still, actually returning to the Underground and seeing anew with her own eyes the reality of what she had once thought mere legend and dreams took her breath away. She stumbled a little as the gravity of what she had done, and practically tripped into Ludo whom had loyally awaited her arrival. She rushed into his warm hug, careful not to crush Toby between them.

"Sawah welcome," Ludo greeted her, "Bruvva Toby?"

"Yes," Sarah laughed, "Brother Toby."

Ludo took the child in his hand, Toby fitting easily within his palm. Turning to his family, Ludo held the boy up with pride.

"Fwend Sawah. Bruvva Toby."

The rock callers were delighted with the new additions and loudly conveyed their joy. They lumbered up to her to wrap her within furred arms and plant massive kisses against her cheek. Toby soon disappeared from her sight as he was passed to and fro between giant hands as a favoured grandchild. When she had been properly greeted the beasts half-dragged, half-carried Sarah through the small crowd where a feast of wild fruits and vegetables awaited. The night was spent in celebration and over the next few months Sarah and Toby settled into a comfortable routine in their new home.

"Sawah happy?" Ludo asked one lazy afternoon as they lay on the hillside picking at the grass beyond the caves they called home.

Sarah stared out over the Underground from her perch on the mountain side. Before them the land stretched out for miles. The Desert and the Labyrinth lay over the horizon to the north while Village Spring, a large merchant town, thrummed with activity just south-east of the mountain. Between the two lay a great forest where the last vestiges of the Elves had sought made their home. Directly south the Siren Sea churned with power, and beyond that across the Great River lay the unseelie kingdom. Farther afield the rest of the Underground spread out as a patchwork blanket over the earth. It was literally a fairytale kingdom. She smiled.

"Sarah very happy."

"Sawah need dwess."

She frowned down at her jeans and shirt. They had gotten fairly ratty in the last few months, but she had made do with the few spare clothes she'd brought with her.

"I'm fine Ludo. I don't need new clothes."

Ludo shook his great head, "Sawah need dwess. Stay safe."

She considered Ludo's words. She was safe within the caves. But then, she'd had no need to venture beyond their small piece of paradise and she would soon need to. Whilst the rock callers subsisted largely on fruit and vegetables taken from the ground, when winter came she would undoubtedly have to venture beyond this haven to the villages, if not a town, where she could barter for supplies. She could hardly do that gadding about in mortal garb.

She turned to Ludo with a smile, "You're right. I need to some clothes. Let's go to town."

Ludo passed Sarah a cloak with which to cover her jeans and shirt. Sarah stood to see Marg loping toward them, carpet bag in hand. A distant cousin of Ludo, Marg was half-giant, half-kobold. Because of this, she was shorter and less hairy than her full-giant cousins, and able to speak with greater dexterity. She was quite useful to the clan when drawn out discussions were needed, and Sarah understood that Marg would help her on her first outing away from the caves.

"Sarah is being ready?" Marg enquired shyly, flicking a glance toward the giant behind Sarah.

"I am Marg. Thanks for coming along."

"No! No thanks being necessary! I pleased to help!" Marg cried and Sarah cringed with embarrassment.

Magical folk didn't appreciate thanks, lest their good deeds be forgot. Unfortunately, after a lifetime of manners having been hammered into her, Sarah often forgot _not_ to say thank you. She struggled for a moment for the words to say to Marg to let her know of her appreciation.

"My apologies Marg. I meant to say I shan't forget," Sarah amended gently, relieved when Marg accepted her entreaty.

Marg led them in a roundabout way down the mountain and to the main roads. The dirt paths were well travelled by carriages of all sorts and carved deep ruts into the country side. Sarah was in awe of her surroundings, which appeared at once both alien and familiar.

"Traveller road," Marg explained, "Labyrinth north. Village Spring south," she added, pointing either way.

Sarah felt a shiver crawl down her spine at the mention of the Labyrinth. Ludo had told her that the mountain range bordered the Goblin Kingdom and Sarah estimated the Labyrinth to be a few day's travel from the caves where they lived. Still, to see a road leading to the Labyrinth made it seem that much closer. She pulled the cloak more tightly about her.

Marg led them down the road toward Village Spring, heading away from the Labyrinth. Sarah expelled a breath in relief, but still found herself feeling unsettled. Toby sprang to mind and she fought the urge to run back to make sure he was safe.

"Toby safe," Ludo assured her, surprising her yet again with his uncanny ability to sense her thoughts.

She gave his paw a squeeze, when she noticed the morning shadows pointing east. That wasn't right…

"The sun rises in the _WEST_?" Sarah exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks, "How did I not notice that?!"

Ludo and Marg gave her a confused look.

"Of course sun rise in west, Sarah," Marg said slowly, as if to a child.

Sarah shook her head, "It rises in the east Aboveground," she explained to their amazement.

"East?" Ludo rumbled, scratching his head at the thought.

"Nowt many folk know such a 'ting lass, leastwise nowt many magical folk."

The trio whirled around to see an old man standing to the side of the road. He was severely hunched over, and standing at only four feet he was too short to be fae, but too tall to be a goblin. His face was etched with wrinkles and his skin was browned from years in the sun. He boasted a wiry beard, pot belly and strangely thick fingers and arms that seemed to Sarah to suggest he was used to hard labour. Behind him stood a fine strong horse that was hitched to a wagon that seemed almost a museum piece. The wood was gnarled and scuffed, and bits and bobs hung from the underside of the roof in a gypsy display. Both the man and his horse stood glaring at the group, the old man giving Sarah a discerning gaze. The cloak no longer seemed to hide her, and she glared back at the man. Ludo growled warningly beside her, taking a protective stance as Marg hissed.

"Ye be in no danger from the likes a' me, girly. But others… well a young mortal woman is a rarity here nowadays. Yer clothes help ye nowt. Ye stand owt like blood on snow," he gestured at her jeans with a thick hand.

Sarah huffed. The old man was irritatingly right, emphasis on the irritating. He stared at her for a while, seeming to judge her worthiness before disappearing into the wagon. He returned a moment later with cloth of green and brown trim.

"Here girly, put this on afore yer snatched away by some amorous lordling. Nowt that it will help ye much. Ye be too pretty nowt to take," he said with a sigh.

Sarah accepted the cloth with wary gratefulness, nodding graciously in unspoken thanks for the gift. Ludo shifted behind her, ready to defend at any moment.

"Take?"

The old man nodded, and Sarah could see Marg nod along with him, "Are ye familiar with the story of the Sabine women of yer world?"

Sarah gasped with understanding, "They'd kidnap me to be their _wife_?"

"Wife, or someting' other if they be already wived."

Sarah was outraged, but the old man shrugged, "'Tis nowt fair, I know, but 'tis the way of tings. Stay safe; stay hidden, lass."

Sarah gave the man a stiff nod of acknowledgement. He tipped his head in turn, and hobbled away back to his wagon. Just as Sarah stepped backward toward Ludo, a howl rent the air and cloaked riders descended upon them all.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you kindly for the reviews. Just a heads up: as stated, this is a J/S… but it'll be a couple more chapters before we throw our couple together. I'm just heating up the cauldron… Double double toil and trouble so to speak

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**Chapter 4**

Aboveground : Early 1987

Underground : 12 and a bit Years After _Labyrinth_

Word of the day : Inconceivable.

The throne room was in a state of utter disarray. Papers and goblins were tossed and kicked about as Jareth stormed about the room. The riding crop he usually carried lay broken on the floor, having been snapped across a muscled thigh in anger.

There was no trace of them. Not hide, nor hair; no clues and no leads. His crystals revealed nothing to him, not even a flash of colour or darkness. It was inconceivable that a mortal girl could disappear without a trace, let alone with an infant. He would have accused Hoggle of assisting her, were it not for the hobgoblin having accused him first of foul play. He grabbed at a piece of paper, hoping to find some answers in the tattered note scribbled with random facts.

Barely a month after Jareth had last seen Toby and the girl, their parents had been killed. That had been a surprise to the King. Accidents did happen in the mortal world, but Jareth had taken Toby's perpetual safety in the arms of his mortal family for granted. It was an amateur's mistake to make and he should have known better than to take anything for granted. He should have kept a closer eye on the girl and her traitorous compatriots. If he'd known of the passing of Toby's guardians he would have claimed the boy for himself. Now he was paying for his folly.

Interrogating the traitors proved futile. The sum of Hoggle's knowledge had been the death of their parents and Sarah's having gone missing, taking Toby with her. Hoggle feared that something terrible had happened to make Sarah leave so suddenly and without telling her friends. That she hadn't contacted him since going missing alarmed the hobgoblin greatly and he worked tirelessly on lead after useless lead in an effort to find something – anything. The giant had left for parts unknown years ago – well before the girl had gone missing apparently while Sir Didymus was even more useless than absent giant. Jareth had called the old knight in for questioning, only to have the fool go into a right heroic panic.

"Mine lady and the little prince are in danger?! Ambrosius to me! We must away with all haste to find the damsel and the boy! This be our sacred duty, for which we may never return till all is put to rights!"

And so Sir Didymus had charged away on his cowardly steed. It took an hour or so for the knight to fly through the Labyrinth, but eventually he made the gates and Jareth noted with disdain the tiny shadow disappearing over the rolling desert sands. Nevertheless, it amused him every now and again to think of the ridiculous little fox-terrier storming about the Underground on a fruitless quest.

The mortals had even less clue as to where the siblings could have gone. The girl's mother had money enough to pay for a thorough investigation, but had come up with nothing. Mortal enforcers had trawled pawn brokers for the stolen jewellery, but come up with nothing. Images of the siblings featured on large colourful moving screens across the realm, but they were never sighted. Whatever the girl had done, she had done it well and Jareth could not help but reluctantly admire her resourcefulness.

After months of searching, Hoggle had appeared weary with defeat before the King in his throne room. The mortals now believed Sarah and Toby to have come to harm almost immediately after running away from their home.

"What do you mean, come to harm?" Jareth had hissed from his throne.

Hoggle was listless, and did not even respond to the subtle threat laced within the King's tone, "That they's be dead and gone."

"Lies! Filthy lies!" Jareth raged.

Hoggle merely fiddled sadly with the plastic bracelet gracing his wrist. The sight of it further enraged the King. The riding crop in his hand was snapped across a leg as he leapt from the throne. He stormed toward the hobgoblin, kicking goblins along the way. He picked Hoggle up by the lapels of his vest and shook him madly. Hoggle lay limp in his grasp, his brown eyes staring into the distance. Disgusted, Jareth tossed him away. He stormed about the room, tearing papers from the tables, searching for any hint or clue.

"Your majesty?"

"What? Can't you see I'm busy?" he snapped.

The goblin hummed, "Lord Cael has arrived."

Jareth growled low in his chest, "Undoubtedly with his sisters as well."

Jareth slammed a crystal against the wood of the table and the papers disappeared. Whirling about he stalked over to the Throne and threw himself on it as if he had not a care in the world. With a click of his fingers, he was surrounded by his goblins. Where Hoggle was he didn't know – the little cretin had skulked off during Jareth's angry search. Jareth made a note to himself to bog the little imbecile who'd dared bring him such terrible tidings.

"Your majesty, I present Lord Cael and his sisters, Lady Lian and Lady Mona."

Jareth waved the footman away as the lordling and his entourage paid respect to his throne, "Welcome to the Goblin Kingdom Lord Cael. I trust your travels were uneventful."

"I wish I could say so, your majesty. But we did pass some a farming village that had been recently attacked by roving marauders. It seems each day the raiders grow more daring in these… uncertain times."

"Hmm… _certainly_," Jareth replied with a bored tone that masked the jib.

Lord Cael pressed his point, "It makes one long for strong alliances to present a united front in the face of such unpleasantness."

"Quite," came the short response.

The lordling motioned to his sisters, "May I present to you my sisters, Lady Lian and Lady Mona?"

The two ladies swept forward, curtseying before the King. He waved a hand and they stood to attention, their eyes eager and inviting. Jareth was feeling less than taken with them.

"Welcome to my kingdom," his tone was dry despite the civility of his words.

"Thank you, your highness," Lady Lian spoke, eager for his attention, "We hope we find you and yours in good health?"

Standing beside his sister Lord Cael smiled, and it was not pleasant.

Jareth grimaced inside, but maintained an implacable exterior. More and more the gentry had been asking after his Heir, and of late they had become bolder in their questioning. Having never presented Toby at court, Jareth's Heir remained a mystery to many. It was becoming more and more difficult to dissemble before the growing force of their curiosity. It had amused him to delay their satisfaction, but times were changing. He would soon need to display the boy, else find himself either challenged, on the receiving end of the wiles of every stupid chit from here to Queen's Court, or, if all else failed, looking forward to an unfriendly visit from a local assassin. It wasn't something he had time for. Such distractions took time and resources away from the kingdom and its defences and with an all-out war brewing, his kingdom needed its ruler to be prepared. If only his Heir wasn't missing... without the boy the situation was turning into a perfect storm and not for the first time Jareth cursed the girl bent on turning his world yet again.

Smiling at the fae before him, he replied with deliberate lightness, "_I _assure you, _we_ are in perfect health."

They took his meaning, but without visible proof of the Heir before them they clearly retained some doubts. He continued to smile at those assembled and wondered how long they would play on his hospitality. A feeling of icy resolve rolled over him, and his eyes glittered with malevolent determination. He would find his Heir, he would defend his throne, and he would destroy any whom stood in his way. He was the Goblin King and Goblin King he would remain.

_Let the games begin_.


	5. Chapter 5

Apparently I lied. Jareth and Sarah will cross paths in the next chapter.

Chapter 5

Aboveground : Mid 1986

Underground : Not quite 11 years After _Labyrinth_

Question : Do you believe in magic, in a young girls heart?

The horses howled through sharp teeth, scenting their quarry. Whips cracked, cloaks rippled in wind and dark bodied horses' hooves pounded in a riot of noise and movement. Sarah screamed as the riders bore down on them. She turned and ran straight into Marg who pushed her along, running behind her. Ludo roared in anger, a meaty arm whipping out to send a rider flying from his horse. Sarah couldn't see the old man.

"Take down the wagon!" one shouted.

"I've got the beast!" another yelled.

"I'll get the women!" a third cackled.

Sarah's heart pounded and she and Marg fled through the trees, riders crashing through the brush behind them. Sarah knew the odds were stacked against them. There were at a half dozen riders on war horses trained to take down their quarry, and Sarah strained her body to flee from the crashing sounds chasing her through the dense wood. A sob escaped her throat as she felt the burn in her legs. She'd wanted to be an actress, not an Olympian! But still Sarah pushed herself forward, terror driving her. A dark shadow leapt into her path and she screamed and turned right to escape it. A sinister laugh terrified her ears and Sarah realised that the riders had managed to separate her from Marg. Another shadow teased her, and blind anger began to override fright. A whip sounded beside her right ear and she deliberately thrust herself toward the sound and raced back toward the road. Ludo may still be there and Marg may have also thought to double back.

Ludo was roaring with anger and pain when she burst through the trees. Two riders harried him with their whips and horses hooves. From the corner of her eye Sarah could see the remains of the wagon sprawled on its side with all its goods tossed about the road, almost as if it had been gutted. Pieces of splintered wood littered the road. A ways over, the old man was still there and duelled another rider with a twisted wooden cane. Behind her, she could hear a horse barrelling through the underbrush. Acting on instinct, Sarah grabbed the nearest piece of wood and thrust the end into the earth whilst she held the middle at an angle. Not a second later her pursuer flew from the tree line.

In the chaos Sarah was flung across the road. But not before the splintered end of the wood had pierced through the raging animal. Its legs twisted and broke – spindly things perfect for speed but useless under brute force, and it crashed to the ground. It screamed its pain, writhing against broken bones and the spear lodged in its breast till it grew weak. It would certainly die. The rider had more luck. He had been knocked from the saddle but had managed to roll with the fall. His arm was dislocated and he suspected several fractured ribs, but his focus was on the girl.

"I'm going to break your damned neck – right after I break you in, you damnable whore!"

Sarah scrabbled back, pain lancing through her body. The rider towered over her, and for the first time she saw clearly the black leathery face and curved nose over cruel pointed teeth. This was no man and she trembled with fear and rage. He reached a clawed hand out, the fingers easily reaching around her neck as he began to crush the breath from her. She kicked out at him but she was no match for his brute strength. Black dots coloured her vision and with a burst of energy Sarah screamed, her fingers clawing at the hand choking her.

The earth rumbled dangerously but the rider continued to squeeze. Sarah's scream strangled in her throat to a squeak till the hand was suddenly wrenched from her, leaving her coughing and gasping for air. She glanced around, but could hardly see for the tears in her eyes and wooziness threatening to overcome her. She wiped at her eye as she struggled to stand. Her vision cleared somewhat, but remained hazy. Still, even in the state she was in Sarah could clearly see boulders flying all about her. Large ones, the size of soccer balls whipped past her head. She heard a dull thud and took a step to turn, only to fall over the body of the rider that had been strangling her. Rocks pounded at his limp body, caving in his chest till there was naught but a mass of broken flesh on the road. The sight made Sarah gag, and she threw up on the road. She lifted her eyes.

The riders were dead. The one whom had been duelling the old man lay broken under the rocks that had killed him. One of the riders that had been harrying Ludo lay dead on the ground whilst Ludo himself flung the second about as he roared his victory – a lifeless figure sagging from a crushed head held tightly within the monster's paw. She was sick again at the sight. A hand suddenlygrasped her arm and she flinched away.

"C'mon lass. Best away."

The old man helped her to her feet and she leant on him, weak with shock. She looked around at the destruction. Bodies, boulders and blood littered the road. Ludo shuffled toward them now, having tossed the body of the rider away.

"Where's Marg?" she asked no one in particular, her voice groggy.

The old man looked away. Ludo lifted his large head, sniffing the air, then with a great keening wail charged off into the trees. Sarah stared blankly after him. Minutes later Ludo returned holding a badly injured Marg. She was unconscious and her wounds serious, but she was breathing. Hot tears rolled down Sarah's cheeks as shock began to give way to grief.

"No time for tears, dearie," the old man croaked, "We must salvage what we can. Assist me."

Sarah obeyed, numbly stumbling about picking up whatever wasn't broken or still useable. It wasn't much. She picked at some cloth, then realised it was peasant's dress. Just the type of clothing she'd need. Sarah swallowed the sobs that threatened.

With Marg in his arms, Ludo led the way back to the caves. The old man followed, stating his occupation as a physician and his wish to assist. Too tired to argue against him, Sarah and Ludo trudged back toward the caves. It was a long, slow walk and the sun was setting in the sky by the time they returned. The rest of the rock callers met them, shock and horror etched in their faces as they took in the defeated forms. Sarah and Ludo were led to a quiet room where Irin attended to their wounds and insisted they eat, gently threatening to feed them herself. The threat wasn't necessary. Sarah and Ludo sipped the warm broth in silence. The old man had gone with Marg to assist in treating her more serious wounds. He joined them just as they had finished their meal. With a simple nod, Sarah took her leave. She limped through the flame-lit corridors to her room. There, she found Toby asleep, safe and sound in his own bed. Relief flooded through her and she did not resist the urge when it took her to crawl into the small cot and wrap herself around his small warm body, her arms cradling the boy in a protective embrace.


	6. Chapter 6

Long chapter this one. I'm enjoying writing. It's been a while and it feels like the old muscles are creaking back to life. Its funny how I'm doing this for me, but I find myself waiting on reviews. It's addictive haha. Speaking of reviews, appreciate constructive feedback. If you like the story a "hey, awesome, loved it when Jareth (whatever)" is great, but if you think the story is going too slow or there's too much detail, or whatever, it helps to know to improve my writing.

And yes... Sarah and Jareth cross paths in this chapter. They'll have more to do with eachother now the scene is set. Notice the time difference between his chapters and hers. She's almost 2 years behind Jareth at the moment (Underground time), but the timeline will marry up soon-ish or later-ish. I've kept the Aboveground time as I'm assuming Sarah and Toby will continue to age in 'human' years. As she was born in 1970, she's almost 17 by this point in the story (physically), but remember she's been underground for 2.5 years, and time grows inner maturity.

Happy Reading

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**Chapter 6**

Aboveground : Mid 1987

Underground : 12 and a half Years After _Labyrinth_

Rambo says : First Blood

The sword in his hands was perfectly balanced. The blade glinted menacingly as it arced through the air. It was a thing of beauty, as was the unearthly man wielding it. Two fingers drew along the edge of the blade, enjoying the simple perfection of a well-made weapon. Behind him the doors to the great court opened. A footman entered and cleared his throat.

"They're ready for you, your majesty."

The Goblin King strode through the doors of the High Court to face the challenger. To think only a month before he'd been an honoured guest at his host's wedding. It seemed etiquette was falling by the wayside as the lines were drawn between friend and foe.

The wedding of Lady Margo to Lord Gavyn had been a drawn-out affair, lasting over a month. It was an opportunity to see, be seen, and renew political affiliations. Overall the message was clear – this was a more than a marriage; it was an alliance between the kin and ken of the couple. All within the Underground nobility were invited, seelie and unseelie alike. It would be a hotbed of politics and intrigue. Normally Jareth would enjoy such games, but he had an Heir to find. Another time Jareth would have made up an excuse (perhaps a runner conveniently calling upon him), but circumstances demanded he attend. War was upon them, even his missing Heir didn't change that fact… Jareth controlled a sigh, bottling the grief for later when he wasn't mid dance with Lady Rin.

"You dance divinely, my lord," she simpered up at him.

He smiled politely in reply.

"Such a happy couple, and so fortunate an alliance – or so says my father."

He was well aware of whom her father was and the sway he held in the High Court.

"They say one marriage begets another…" she continued.

"Indeed. I believe Lord Finn shall be married within the month," Jareth replied smoothly.

"And you, my lord?" she asked boldly.

Jareth smiled broadly at her, and she flushed beneath his gaze.

"Why, I have my Heir," he said simply, crushing her petty hopes.

She soon flounced away to find a more agreeable partner. Jareth wasn't displeased to see her go, only that he hadn't had more of an opportunity to needle someone. Ever since Hoggle had disappeared, consumed by the girl's loss, he'd not a soul to torment every now and again to relieve him of his own stresses. The goblins were too stupid to know when they were being insulted, and without the indignant reaction to his taunts, the words seemed hollow.

"Damn Hedgewart to leave his King at a time like this," he grumbled under his breath.

"Is my lord sad on such a happy occasion?"

Lady Lian, his very shadow, displayed herself before him, the dress leaving little to the imagination.

"Not at all," Jareth replied smoothly, "Royal matters took my attention for a moment."

"Your Heir?"

There was something in her tone of late that suggested she knew more than he'd told anyone. The directness of her question too was unusually forward. It warned Jareth to tread carefully. His ears pricked at the conversation behind him, and he thanked Mother Earth for rumours.

"The one they call the Stone King," he corrected.

"He is here!?" Lady Lian was agog.

"The Stone King you say?" Lord Cael was ever on time, "Just a rumour."

"Oh no," another lord joined in, "He's very real."

"Who has magic that can withstand the sea?" Lord Cael scoffed over his wine glass.

"One with great power," Jareth offered.

"And the sirens?"

They were gaining an audience.

"Perhaps the sirens couldn't withstand _him_," Lady Rin giggled from the side, eliciting oohs from several other women.

"My lord, I would speak with you?" Lord Cael cut in quietly to Jareth as the conversation grew and took on a life of its own.

Jareth could not refuse a direct request so easily, "Of course."

He was led to a private chamber just off the ballroom. It was dark, with little but the moon to light it. Lord Cael closed the doors behind him.

"Have you given our offer some thought, my lord?" Lord Cael asked.

Jareth waved a hand, "You know my answer, for you have offered several times."

"Things have changed," Lord Cael said tightly, his fists clenching, "My liege grows impatient."

"He has his answer," Jareth replied evenly.

"It is not to his liking."

"What's said is said."

Lord Cael growled, "In his generosity, my liege offers you one last chance. He shall not _ask_ again."

Jareth stood to his full height, mismatched eyes glinting, "You have my answer. I shall not _repeat_ it."

"Very well," and with that Lord Cael swept from the room.

Jareth followed, only to find a crowd had gathered at the doors of the ballroom.

"He is here!"

"The Stone King."

"So handsome.."

"No that's the heir apparent!"

"_That's_ the heir? Who then is the old man? His manservant?"

"…That's the King."

"…!"

"My love, wait!"

The voice behind him rang out above the others. Jareth turned to see Lady Lian step from the room he had just exited, her dress half torn off her shoulder. Her hair had been hastily rearranged and her lips were swollen. He'd been set up.

"Lian!" Lord Cael was all righteous outrage, he turned to the Goblin King, "My Lord what is the meaning of this!"

Jareth knew, somewhere, the author of this farce and Lord Cael's master was watching the scene unfold with glee. So this is what he'd meant by not _asking_ again? He sought to force an alliance through marriage? Jareth laughed.

"Clearly someone has plucked your sister's cherry," Jareth deadpanned.

He began to walk away when Lord Cael shouted, "Upon your honour, sir! You exited this room only a moment before!"

Jareth turned, his face impassive and cold as he addressed a smirking Mordred La Fay, "I'd rather _bog_ myself!"

He left, the crowd parting for the Goblin King as he made for the doors. By the wayside he spied a short, brown little man whom he supposed to be the Stone King. Beside him, Jareth glimpsed a tall, silver haired fae dressed in white. He nodded absently to the pair, but did not stop till he reached his chambers. Lord Cael's writ arrived the next morning. They would duel for the honour of Lady Lian.

Thus Jareth found himself crossing swords with the fae. Such a pity he couldn't kill him, he was related to too many people with powerful friends and a favourite of the Court. It was easy for him to be so; Lord Cael was not to high, nor too low, while Jareth was generally persona non grata. But for the power of the Labyrinth he didn't doubt the rest of the Underground would be happy to simply ignore him till the end of forever. In Jareth's opinion, that would be far too soon.

They danced in an ancient display of swordsmanship and deadly grace. Lord Cael sought to dominate, but the Goblin King flowed like magic, redirecting blows and driving Lord Cael to make his own mistakes. The young lordling began to falter. Back and back again he stepped, unable to withstand the greater skill and experience of the Goblin King. The young lord slipped and Jareth took immediate advantage of the opening in his defences and slid the sword straight through. The point cut through the flesh of the fae's shoulder. Shocked, Lord Cael gave a shout of surprise. Jareth knew in that moment that the wound was a clean cut, but he was not done. Shifting his weight, he turned his body, arm and the sword held within his powerful grip. The blade twisted cruelly within the wound, forcing flesh and bone aside in its wake. The wounded man cried out with pain, and again when Jareth tore the steel back. Lord Cael's sword clattered to the ground as he fell to his knees clutching at the wound, hissing with humiliation and pain.

The court clapped politely, indicating their acceptance and witness of a challenge won. Jareth bowed again. He saluted the High King and the crown with a tap of his fist, sword still in hand, against his chest. He turned, spotting the form of Lady Lian faint in her chair. He felt no pity for her. She and her brother had gambled and lost. She would justly suffer the consequences of a marred reputation, regardless of the state of her virtue. Further along, his eye once again caught the figure of the Stone King and his heir apparent, and beside them Lady Mahryssa. The Stone King acknowledge the Goblin King as he passed.

"An admirable performance, King Jareth."

Jareth bowed his head briefly, acknowledging the old man. His wrinkled face broke into a smile, while his Heir remained stoic and silent. Jareth found himself slightly amused at the young man's show of indifference. The doors slid shut behind him.

"An admirable performance indeed, Goblin King."

Mordred slid from the shadows, his dark hair falling like ink about his grey-white skin. Obsidian eyes like that of a crow attempted to pin him beneath an unfathomable stare. Jareth met the unseelie lord head on.

"Seeking an encore, Princeling?"

It was the correct honorific, even if Jareth did linger over the _prince _a little.

Mordred's lip twitched. The thin black line winking to the side till it was an inky sliver stretched across pointed teeth. It was not a smile.

"I rather thought this the prologue," Mordred replied icily.

"I do so love a good story," Jareth indicated the bloody sword, "And an even better ending."

Mordred tittered, "We haven't even begun. He was but the first, and things have changed."

"Yes, Lord Cael did mention that before," Jareth's tone was dry with boredom.

Mordred bristled with indignant anger, "Fool. I know your Heir is dead. Do you think I shall cease or that the seelie will protect you? I was generous, I offered allegiance. I shall not be rejected again. You shall bend the knee, Goblin King, whether or not you have your throne afterward depends on your compliance. Lord Cael was but the first. More shall take up the challenge now your line is broken. You know what is coming, and I advise you to carefully consider your position. Consider yourself warned, Goblin King. Do not defy me."

The unseelie prince stepped back into the shadows, his eyes winking like dark crystals until they disappeared. The irony of his words was not lost on Jareth. The game had changed and it seemed time was running shorter than he had anticipated. The pieces were moving and play was quickening. The crueller part of him was elated for the opportunity to spread its wings. It _had_ been a thousand years since the last good battle and he almost looked forward to it. He looked to his hand, feeling the weight of the sword and smelling the blood congealing along its blade and knew it to be the first blood of war.


	7. Chapter 7

****Hi all, another chapter for your reading pleasure. I'm away this weekend and so won't post for another week. Also, would you believe chapters 9, 11 and 13 are written, but I'm still working on chapter 8? Yeah, the time lag between character's has gotten really interesting. I'm thinking I might post another 'Sarah' chapter after this one.

Cheers for the reviews. I appreciate the feedback.

Just as a reminder: Sarah left Above almost 2 years ago with Toby. She's been hanging out in some caves south of the Labyrinth, but outside the borders of the Goblin Kingdom. War has been brewing for ages in the Underground, and its starting to heat up, with raiders going about being nasty to the local population. Last chapter for Sarah, their small group was attacked and she was almost killed. Hoggle finds out Sarah is missing a few weeks from now (at 12 years since _Labyrinth_), which brings Sarah's timeline almost up to par with Jareth's first chapter. Happy reading.

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**Chapter 7**

Aboveground: Mid-Late 1986

Underground: 11 and a bit Years since _Labyrinth_

Sarah – Born December 1970. Turning 16.

Toby – Born 1984. Turning 2.

"Get up."

Sarah didn't so much as blink under the commanding voice.

"This has gone on long enough. Get up."

Her mind screamed at her. The sound was like white noise. She'd _killed_ someone.

"If that's how its going to be, be prepared to face the consequences."

So what if it had been in self defence? Blood was on her hands. Her fifteen year old hands…

Icy water interrupted her thoughts. She shrunk reactively till the sharp sting of a whippet smacked against her arms, legs and back. She curled in on herself but the tempest worsened. She scrambled back, her hair marring her vision and her atrophied muscles screaming after weeks of sitting in still silence as the grief overtook her.

"Fight back you stupid girl. Or it'll be worse for you."

The whip lashed even more harshly at her skin, leaving thin bloody trails along the white flesh. The pain shocked Sarah out of her self-induced coma. She struck out, nails scratching at her tormenter. He laughed cruelly and struck her again. A warning roar sounded from Ludo somewhere nearby as Sarah was lashed again, this time the whip curling about her body to land fiercely on her back. She screeched. The earth answered and shook with her anger.

"Yes!" the cruel voice crowed triumphantly.

Another dash of icy water and the whipping stopped. She glared murderously at the old gypsy. He merely nodded at her, satisfied.

"Good. Now you're up, follow me."

That had been three or four months ago. Now she found herself under a punishing physical regime. She hadn't minded the mind-numbing muscle-wearying torture the first few days offered. It took her mind off the fact that _she had killed someone_. Then the old man had begun to take her through combat styles, both defensive and offensive. She'd protested when she realised that the offensive moves meant using deadly force.

"I don't _want_ to kill again," she'd shuddered as the sound of the bedevilled horse screaming, the wood piercing its black breast, played in her memory.

"You're too soft. Don't think for a moment those unseelie _teraks_ wouldn't have abused you for days and then left you for dead. You were mercy itself by comparison."

Sarah wasn't sure what a _terak _was, but given that Ludo had covered his ears with his overly large hands, she supposed it was a four-letter word. Tears welled in her eyes because she knew he was right. It wasn't fair… she was too young…

"Nobody is ever too young, lass. Semantics," he'd spat, then crooked a knowing eye at her, "There's nothing fair about war."

She'd goggled at him, "War?"

Her mind was in a whirl, linking bit-pieces of knowledge here and there in an attempt to form some sort of sense. Sarah hadn't realised their run-in with the riders was merely prologue to worse. Noone had told her and the thought of more attacks frightened her. She'd only wanted to keep Toby safe after their parents – but she wouldn't think about that right now. She had to focus on Toby, and be strong for him… but how to do that now it seemed neither the Above or Below offered any sort of peace for them? Suddenly the caves didn't feel so safe.

"It's a'brewin'," he'd whistled, "The raids are only the start. Soon houses and farms will be raided, then quiet little hamlets, then whole villages will be set alight. This is just the beginnin'."

She found out he was right about that too. Autumn arrived, cold and unyielding and they'd been forced to travel into one of those small villagers. Several homes had been burnt out and naught but blackened timber remained. The streets were quiet, filled with frightened farmers selling their wares over whispered haggling. She threw herself into her training, the harsh workout giving her a focus to the looming threat.

"I'm going to teach you magic," he'd said after one particularly brutal afternoon.

She was so tired her surprised, "What?" came out more as a slurred, "Whaaad?"

She couldn't do magic. She wasn't a fairy.

"Not _that_ type o' magic."

What other kind was there?

"Elemental."

"Like an elf or a sprite?"

He'd rolled his eyes, "Ye've not a clue about fae, do ye? Elves and sprites are still fairies."

"Like cousins?"

"Yes, like cousins if it helps ye," he grumbled impatiently.

"When do I start?"

He'd smiled, "Ye've already begun."

The punishing physical exercise had been designed to not only improve her physically, but enlarge her magical capacity. It still didn't answer the question of what kind of magic she was going to learn. Whenever she asked, the old man simply said she wasn't ready yet.

"It better not be black magic or blood rituals," she warned him.

He'd laughed at that, a dry sound gasping through wrinkled lips, "No lass, not that kind either," then he'd looked at her, his eyes glittering, "The day we met. Do you remember?"

She hunched her shoulders and bent till her chin touched her chest, "How could I forget it? How do you forget killing someone?"

"Correction, you killed _several_ someones."

She shook her head. He quirked a bushy white eyebrow.

"You don't think those boulders crushed the lives from their evil bodies themselves did you?"

"I couldn't – No. It was Ludo-"

He'd waved a hand, "Oh, the beast did his fair share of crushing. But you, m'dear, took the prize."

"You're saying _I_ called the rocks?"

"More like screamed bloody murder at them, dearie," he'd snickered.

She tossed her slipper at him angrily, "That's _not_ funny! You're _despicable!"_

His lip had curled, "Allow me to show you _despicable_, little girl."

The next day he'd force marched her away from the safety of the caves and south, further south than she had ever been, toward the Great River. It made her nervous to be so far from home, where evils greater than the fluffy monsters she bunked with lurked with beautiful faces and evil intent. It didn't help that the expression of that evil was all around her, for as they travelled there would be by the wayside a black circle of ash within which a thin charcoal marred headstones marked the tomb of what was once a home. Travellers passed them by with a wary distance, watching them with fearful eyes as they trudged the roads. Wherever they travelled they were met with suspicious glances and unfriendly tones. There were whispers of riders cloaked in black descending on moonless nights to terrorise those foolish enough to be caught on lonely roads. More than once Sarah heard the pounding of hooves in the dark as she clutched the blankets tight around her freezing body. The world shivered with a wintry fear that stole the breath from her lungs and splintered icy pickles of dread through her senses.

"This is only the beginning," her companion cum torturer observed quietly as they passed through a small hamlet, "The fear of what is to come. The raids will worsen. Its only petty violence for now-"

Sarah snorted softly at that.

"-affecting mostly individuals, but soon there will be killings. Women will be taken, possibly children."

"They already tried to take me."

"Ye were alone in the woods, girl. I speak of the day when women are dragged from their _homes_."

Words, they were mere words, but they shook Sarah to the core as she imagined a world where your home wasn't a sacred space and you weren't safe even within the arms of your own family. It was a violation and she felt faint for what was coming. She sucked in a breath, and then another and another. It seemed like her lungs would never fill.

Sarah had known this world was not a land of cotton candy and rainbows. She wasn't that naïve. This was the land of things that went bump in the night. She knew it. She'd just ignored it. Even when they'd been attacked on the road that day, a part of her had held onto innocent dreams with both hands. Till this moment she'd determinedly to the grown-up realities of this fantasy realm called the Underground. She wanted to take Toby and flee. Toby. The thought of him leant her spirit strength. She would be strong for him. Purpose flared within, warming over the cold fear a little.

"You understand now, girlie."

It wasn't really a question. She nodded and by silent mutual accord they turned to trek home. He would teach her magic. She would learn. In learning, she would be able to defend in the coming war. She appreciated for the first time the presence of the irascible old man trundling his way through the first snows of winter beside her.

"What's your name?" Sarah asked.

It shamed her a little that she hadn't thought to ask before now. He grinned toothily.

"Gavyn, at your service, m'lady."

Sarah stuck out her hand; a gesture of friendship.

"Sarah."


	8. Chapter 8

Another Sarah chapter and likely the next will be a Sarah chapter as well. I'm finding it difficult to write 2 years into the future with Jareth without having Sarah's backstory sorted. It's been interesting to write. Definitely a learning curve. I also realise its quite detailed when really you just want to get into the action - i.e. get the J/S going. Again, learning curve. So here's the sitch: J/S will meet up in Chapter 10 with the way things are going. So its fairly close. Again, feedback much appreciated to help improve the writing. Elsewise, enjoy!

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**Chapter 8**

Aboveground : Late-ish 1986

Underground : 11 and not quite a half years since _Labyrinth_

"Patience! Don't force it!"

"I'm _trying!_"

It wasn't magic. Gavyn had explained that from the start. It was earthy and elemental. That she had no magic was in fact, a good thing. She was an empty vessel, and needed only to learn to manipulate the flow of energies.

"Stop _trying_! Ye're nowt meant to _try!_"

"Stop _yelling_ at me!" Sarah yelled back, losing her concentration.

The water bubble dropped, splashing her hands with the cold liquid. She huffed with frustration. She'd been working hard to master control over water. Gavyn had said it was more difficult to manipulate than earth, but easier (and safer) to control than fire. As it was cousin to air, manipulation of that element would naturally follow. She heard Gavyn release his own irritated huff, and she giggled.

"That's enough for today, lass. Go to yer chores and I'll meet ye when its time to go," he said, waving her away.

Sarah was glad for the break, even if it was to do chores. It was her turn to tidy, clean and sweep the caves and she did it happily. This was home, and the crazy assortment of creatures her family. It had been almost two years since she'd come to the Underground, and it seemed their small community had swelled from a dozen or so to nearly three dozen. It was getting quite a bit crowded in the caves, but they could hardly turn anyone away. The raids had slowed down as Winter approached, but it was still dangerous to be alone. Only a week ago a young woman had almost been snatched whilst in the forest behind her home. She'd been lucky to have several brothers to hear her screams. Sarah hadn't quite understood it.

"Why beat the men and leave them for dead, but take the women?" she'd ask Gavyn during one of their lessons.

The lesson had been on the geography of the Underground up to that point. Sarah was now well aware of several areas she had no desire to visit.

"They beat the men to send a message and strike fear into the hearts of their enemies," Gavyn spoke as if by rote, "As fer the women, ye may answer that yerself. How many women have ye seen in the Underground, lass?"

Sarah was left wondering why there were so few women in the Underground, and yet fewer men in the Aboveground. Gavyn had merely turned back to the map, his stubby finger pointing to the White Forest of the unseelie.

"It'll be Christmas soon," she'd said another time as frosts swept the land.

They hadn't celebrated Christmas last year. From Gavyn's answer, apparently they'd never celebrate Christmas again.

"It's Yule, girlie. We don't decorate the tree, we burn it."

Toby hadn't understood and started crying that his "Prens burnys," – presents would burn.

"Don't smirk, Gavyn! How can you be so mean?!" she'd snapped at him while trying to soothe Toby.

Gavyn had shrugged, "We love mischief Underground, lass. Best be getting used to it."

She'd responded by splashing him with a bubble of water. He'd only laughed.

"Now ye're getting' it!"

Still, he'd apologised in his own way when he'd taken Sarah and Toby to the celebration of Samhain. Toby had been spoiled with sweet treats while Gavyn had taken the opportunity to tell Sarah more of the Underground culture between watching the bonfires and apple bobbing. When Sarah asked where the ritual sacrifices were, half in jest, half just a tad concerned, he'd snorted.

"'Tis marking the end o' the harvest, s'all. A fest fer th' community ter thank and be thankful."

Yule would mark the Winter Solstice and Sarah's 16th mortal birthday. Gavyn had shown her how to time was marked Underground and how it related to the Above. It wasn't an exact science, but it did give her a general idea of how much time had passed Above. Not that she hadn't known time passed more quickly below; after all, when she'd spoken to Hoggle he'd always talked in terms of weeks or last month. Still, it was strange to think she'd spend two years in the Underground without having a proper birthday, and part of her really wanted to be a little spoiled. So when she'd found out that the Yule festival she'd begged Gavyn to take her. He wasn't pleased to do it, but had bent to her insistence on the condition she be able to mask herself effectively. She'd worked extra hard to prove she could and he'd been unhappy but satisfied with the results.

"Ye'll do, lass. Mind you hide yer hair under the hood. Yer'll learn soon to mask 'tat too soon, but 'twill do fer now."

Sarah had grinned at him from behind masculine features, her face magicked to sharpen the soft feminine face into that of a young fae man. It wasn't so much magic as manipulation of the elements: in this case, the air and its particles. Through reflection and refraction, light and shade on the face became almost like make-up. She could not physically alter her features, but she was learning to create an impressive illusion. It was exciting, to do even this little bit of not-magic, and even as she did her chores Sarah practiced.

Gavyn found her doing just that as she finished sweeping the last room.

"Are ye done with yer chores?"

"Almost. I've just got to put Toby to bed."

"Then I be waitin' near th' forest. Rug up, 'tis a cold night."

Toby was thankfully very sleepy. He was curled up in the tiny cot: his body taking up one half and the massive yellow-eyed monstrosity of a black cat stretched out on the other. The cat eyed her, its claws stretching threateningly and she glared back. Where it came from, Sarah didn't know. It had turned up one day a few weeks ago and simply adopted Toby for its human. Gavyn supposed it might be a Cait Sidhe, but as he'd never seen one he couldn't be sure. Sarah ignored it, not wanting another scratch from the talons it had for claws.

"Story?" Toby had asked sleepily.

He'd fallen asleep right after _Once upon a time_, leaving Sarah to sneak from the room to meet with Gavyn. Ludo had wanted to go with them to safeguard Sarah. His protectiveness had risen several notches with each raid. But Gavyn had said they'd be far more conspicuous with a great big red giant in their group. Then he'd rounded on Sarah.

"Keep yer hood up – dark hair ain't common 'bout these parts, girlie, leastwise for a fae anyhow. An' keep yer cloak _on_!" he'd been emphatic on that point, "There ain't no hiding yer figure. Don't blush, lass, facts is facts. Ye be a young woman, no matter the illusion on yer face."

She'd nodded and they'd made the journey to a moderately sized village just north east of the mountains. It was the main thoroughfare for the Traveller's Road and tonight had attracted a host of revellers. The celebration was held outside the town proper, but the town itself had been decorated with holly, ivy and mistletoe and what Sarah could only describe as a thousand tiki lights along pathways. Gavyn left her to wander about the as revellers as they ate and drank. Taking and receiving as they were want. She laughed at the mummers running about the crowds creating mischief when a arms were thrown about her neck.

"Ain't you a han'some one!"

She was given a fierce kiss and a berry thrust into her hand. It lasted only a second and then the curvy brownie was away with a sly grin. Sarah stared after her gobsmacked. She'd just been kissed – and by a woman!

"Look's like yer guise is a success," Gavyn teased from beside her, a carafe of ale in his hand.

He ribbed Sarah with his elbow, and she suddenly laughed from the ridiculousness of it all. Another pair of hands grabbed her, and she was led in a merry dance – jumping and twirling about and around; nowhere and everywhere. The music was lively and Sarah felt all the joy of the celebrations. How long it lasted, she didn't know. She could only say that time stopped when she glanced around to see _him_. Despite the crowd, she felt exposed. She suddenly noticed the conversation about her.

"Why, 'tis the Goblin King!"

"Ain't he a han'some one!"

"Pass them cakes, would ya?"

Some part of Sarah remembered to duck and cover. She pushed through the crowd, her eyes trying at once to keep a bead on the blond fae whilst trying to locate Gavyn. Her heart pounding in her ears, she slithered about the edges of the party till she found Gavyn neck deep in some dryad's cleavage. She snatched at him, dragging him away from the woman.

"'Ey, what's the big idea?" he grumbled.

"We have to go, _now_," she hissed back.

Sarah cast another look to where the Goblin King stood. He was looking utterly bored standing next to some lordling or other. He didn't look pleased, but then to Sarah's mind when ever had the fae looked pleased save for when he was up to no good? She felt her pulse quicken with fear and a little something else. Safe with Gavyn, for the moment, her eyes took in the wild hair, lean figure and proud stand of the King. Things she hadn't time to notice when she'd been a defiant teen out to save her brother. A new awareness unfurled within, and she realised with dismayed horror that the part of her Gavyn had only hours ago described as a young woman, was reacting to the sheer beauty of the man. He _was_ handsome!

"Yer mask ain't up, lassie."

Surprised into action, Sarah yanked the hood tight about her face. She turned back to Gavyn, who was observing her with a keen eye. She ignored the unspoken question in his expression.

"We have to go, now," she repeated as calmly as she could.

Gavyn nodded once and allowed her to lead the way back to the caves; casting a thoughtful glance over his shoulder as Sarah stormed away.


	9. Chapter 9

Love to "Luv4Uncas" for the dedicated reviewing :-)

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Chapter 9

Aboveground : Late 1986

Underground : 11 and a still not quite a half years since _Labyrinth_

Try as he might, Gavyn could not get Sarah to discuss her reaction to seeing the Goblin King at Yule. She was fairly wily about it, and he couldn't help but admire her slippery manipulation of the situation. He supposed he was rubbing off on the lass, and took it as a compliment to his teaching abilities. Though he was never able to wring it from her, he kept the memory in case it later proved needful.

Sarah, meanwhile, had been diligently attempting to maintain a constant mask. It was difficult, but it would mean she would be safer if she didn't appear female. Her blossoming body didn't help matters, but she was at least able to hide certain assets under baggy clothes. Eventually, though, she hoped to hide her entire self. The magic of the façade was that it was really a simple piece of elemental manipulation, but maintaining it for a long period was taxing. Air just never wanted to stay in one place. But she soldiered on and Gavyn was her willing tormenter and it was her opinion (one that was often loudly broadcast) that he delighted in her pain.

"You're such a masochist!"

Not that she minded the daily torture, really. It kept her waking mind from replaying the near-nightly torture of another kind. It focused her when dreams of slick flesh, straining bodies, and bared skin left her flush and aching. It was worse when those images took shape and she could feel the blonde strands tickle her as sharp teeth nicked her skin and the hint of leather tempted her senses.

"That's sadist, dearie," he'd cackled as he lobbed a ball of water at her, followed closely by a good sized rock.

She struggled to maintain her hold on the air forming her mask whilst fending off the water and the rock; the variation in the elements challenging her skills. It was a difficult thing to ask of one so new to magic, Gavyn knew, but she was up to the task. Sarah was doing quite well, in his opinion. While not a master, she had shown promise and was a diligent student. More than that, despite his harsh teachings, deep down he knew she enjoyed it. It helped her get her frustrations out and gave her focus in this simple life. It wasn't glamorous, living in caves and eking out am existence, but damned if she didn't throw her whole heart into it for that baby boy. A part of him, buried long ago with the wife and child he'd lost, found some measure of peace in giving the girl purpose. In a strange way it gave him purpose too. It'd been a long time since he'd felt that.

"Gavyn! Look!"

He looked to see Sarah pointing toward a dark cloud rising up into the sky. Smoke.

"By th' magic o' Merlin! It be raiders!" Gavyn spat, "Damn the _teraks_! Bastards! I _knew_ this would happen!"

He seized Sarah by the arm, dragging her back to the caves.

"What are you doing?!"

"Getting' ye t' safety, lass. 'T'ain't no picnic down there."

"No! We have to go! Ludo and Marg…. _and TOBY!_ They took him to the village!" Sarah shouted.

With a great shove she pushed Gavyn away and was racing toward the smoke. Gavyn cursed and chased after her as best his old legs could carry him.

"Are ye _DAFT_, girl?" he roared, "Ye'll get yerself killed!"

Sarah kept running. She dashed down the mountain and through the trees. Her physical regime paying off as she flew across the soft, moist earth retaining the last vestiges of Winter. She reached the Travellers Road and found herself shocked by the sight of a lone Rider. He sat upon his horse, a little man in green struggling within the confines of his fist. The animal growled and stomped its hoof, teeth bared. He turned his attention to her, and she cursed her stupidity – she'd forgotten to mask herself!

"Lookie what we have here…" the rider leered at her, a black and blue tongue licking over dirty teeth.

The horse stepped forward with malicious intent and before she knew it she'd sent a sizeable rock at the Rider, catching him solidly in the chest. He fell back with a shout, and his grasp on the little man loosened, allowing it to escape. Sarah barely noticed as she fled back into the trees and the safety of cover. After a while she tried to double back and around in a semi-circle, hoping to dodge the Rider and get closer to the village. She walked, trying to remain quiet but still managed to stumble over a stray root.

"Psst.."

Sarah looked to the sound of the voice. There was noone. She turned to leave.

"Psst!"

She looked back. The smooth bark of the tree had morphed into an old face, wrinkles lined with worry.

"There are Riders that way. You don't want to go there. Turn back!"

"But I can't! I have to find my brother."

If the tree could shrug it would, "Suit yourself," its face seemed to fade.

"Wait!"

"Yes?" it asked, its tone polite.

"Can you help me get to the village?"

It frowned, "I cannot show you the way. But he can."

It looked up to a small blue bird perched on a branch.

"Do be specific."

"What?"

"Specific, child," the tree admonished, "About what you want. Words matter."

"Oh."

Sarah thought for a moment, trying to think of what she could say.

"I want to find my brother, Toby."

The bird whistled long and low.

"The voodoo child, child?" the tree ask with interest.

"What? No. My brother."

The bird whistled again.

"Yes. He will take you to the voodoo child."

"He's not-" but Sarah hadn't time to argue as the bird had flitted speedily away. She cast an annoyed glance at the tree as she chased after the blue speck of feathers. It weaved through the branches, giving little cheeps and whistles as it went. She realised it was leading her away from the village and said so. It only chirped and carried on. With little else to go on, Sarah followed. Minutes later, she stumbled into the trio she'd been so desperately searching for.

"Ludo! Toby! Marg – are you alright?"

Sarah grabbed them in a fierce hug, and Toby found himself squeezed between them all.

"We be well, Sarah," Marg replied, "We see smoke. Turn back."

"It's the Riders."

"Bad Ry-ders," Ludo growled.

"Bah Ry-ers," Toby mimicked.

Sarah took Toby into her arms. He had grown heavy but she was comforted by the weight of him. She held him fiercely to her, thinking how he smelled of innocence and home and things long gone, making her eyes prickle with the beginning of tears. She blinked them away , focussing instead on the uneven ground beneath her feet as the group made their way back to the caves,. They went quickly but quietly. Marg led, being more familiar with the area. It was difficult. There were Riders everywhere; more than they'd seen before.

"Where _is_ the cavalry?" Sarah muttered under her breath, "Isn't _anyone_ in charge of policing the area?"

"Army defend Village," Marg called back softly, "We almost there."

They kept to the trees as they neared the caves, not wanting to expose themselves on the hillside. It didn't matter. Trouble met them anyway. The rider Sarah with whom Sarah had crossed paths had tracked her and brought friends for the hunt.

"There she is! The one I saw!"

"Git 'er!"

Ludo roared.

"Merlin's wand!"

There were only three Riders and Ludo had already sent one flying with a meaty fist. The second and third hit him with their clubs while the first sprung back on his horse. There were shouts from above, and Sarah saw indeed that the cavalry had finally come. Goblins of all sorts descended upon the Riders, and alongside them were many of those from the caves. Sarah could see Gavyn silhouetted against the hill, his hunched figure as graceful as a conductor arranging his opera. Large rocks tumbled toward the Riders, throwing them from their hell-horses. Sarah watched with bated breath from the trees, holding Toby tightly to her. One of the riders managed to escape – his horse already thundering down the mountain. She could hear him swearing vengeance as his two comrades were surrounded by small brown bodies. The goblins were merciless and Sarah shuddered as the creatures tore into the bodies with evil delight. Their deaths were painful but swift, and their screaming horses soon followed their masters. Then it was over.

"Yousies alrights?" she heard one of the goblins ask the assembled group.

"We be fine," Gavyn replied, having moved to represent the cave-dwellers, "Give your King our kindest regards for his assistance. We are much indebted to him."

It wasn't quite a thank you.

"Regards to Kingy," the littlest goblin acknowledged, "We be's goin' now. More Riders south."

"You ok, lady?"

The voice at her feet startled Sarah. A fat little goblin looked up at her from under overly large ears. His eyes flit about, as if twitching within his skull. Sarah held Toby tighter to her.

"We're ok," she whispered back.

"Ok lady. Take care – Hey!" he poked a claw at Toby, "He reminds me of the babe!"

Sarah spun away, hiding Toby from its sight, "He's not. You're mistaken."

"The babe with the power!" the little goblin insisted.

She'd said it before she could stop herself, "What power?"

"The power of voodoo," it sang.

_Voodoo child_, that's what the tree had called Toby. Sarah looked at Toby searchingly. There was nothing in his baby blue eyes but innocent curiosity. She had won, and he belonged to her, _not_ the Goblin King. Toby had been saved from becoming one of _them_.

"…Slap that baby, make him free," the goblin was singing happily.

Sarah saw the raised claw and acted.

"No! Stay away from him! He's mine – not some voodoo baby!"

The goblin's ears drooped, "Oh," he said sadly, looking mournfully at Toby, "Not the babe."

"No, not the babe," Sarah was adamant.

The goblin appeared to try to think, then gave up as it failed, "Ok, lady. Take care. Bye!"

"Good. Bye!"

The goblin disappeared with a quick salute to Sarah after his fellows. Sarah watched him go, at once grateful and filled with trepidation. Toby tugged at her hair, gaining her attention. She sighed as she unwound the strands from his chubby little fingers. He smiled up at her, his blonde hair soft and curled upon his head as he pointed after the goblin.

"Gob'n," he gurgled.

"Goblin," Sarah corrected gently.

She walked back to the caves slowly, processing the day. It was becoming more and more dangerous in the Underground. War was well on the way, and they were risking discovery everyday it seemed now. Risked? They'd _been _discovered. This was the second time she'd had a run-in with the Goblin Kingdom and the Riders knew well where they were now. They'd managed so far, but how long would their luck hold? It couldn't last forever, and they could either wait it out and hope or strike out against the odds and make their own fate. Sarah preferred the second option. It was time to take action and find a real home – one where they weren't hiding in a cave and living off the jewellery she'd stolen. A place they could call their own. Sarah recalled the map Gavyn had been teaching her from and hastened to it. Unable to part from Toby, she struggled with the parchment but managed to unroll it along the old wooden table in the cavern. She looked over it anew with eager eyes. Her fingers trailed the faded watercolour, alighting on a blank spot on the map to the south. No man's Land. She pointed it out to Toby.

"See this, Toby? See this? We're going on an adventure – and _that's_ where we're headed!"


	10. Chapter 10

Anyone read the novelization of the Labyrinth? I can't say I liked it. Sarah is a terrible brat and Jareth is a vainglorious creep. In the words of Gollum – A C H Smith RUINSED IT!

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**Chapter 10**

Aboveground : Beginning 1988

Underground : Not quite 13 years since _Labyrinth_

Jareth ran a tired hand over his face. The stack of invitations piled high on his desk and he'd spent the better part of the day answering them. Over the past few months the Underground had seen a mad rush of alliances sealed at the altar. Some had been long engagements put to bed, others an arrangement for shared lands and power, more than a few were the result of compromises on part of either the bride or groom. Lady Lian's attempted compromise (and subsequent disappearance from polite society) of the Goblin King had spurred a rash of more successful schemes. Such a pity his own attempts at forming alliances (of the non-marital kind at least) had failed miserably.

…_you must understand my concern. An alliance at this time, with your own crown facing several challengers since the news of the death of your Heir… not to mention your unfortunate connection to the Princeling Mordred, I cannot, in good conscience, forge a treaty at this time…_

"Mordred," Jareth cursed the man.

The seelie were a wary lot, and Mordred had played his hand well – intimating personal knowledge of the death of the Heir to the Goblin Throne. Not that Jareth _believed_ the boy dead; he would _know. _But being unable to produce the boy had meant that in the eyes of the Court the Chosen Heir was as good as dead to them and Jareth had no other recourse but to do what he could for the good of his kingdom. Emotional displays would achieve nothing. But Mordred's interference had left him with few implying a close relationship the cunning bastard had severely limited Jareth's potential acquaintance. The seelie lords had no wish to ally themselves to someone whom could be spying for the enemy.

"It's not fair!" he grumbled to himself.

Not that he'd done himself any favours, having never made himself terribly likeable. He'd abhorred Underground politics though he did maintain a few key alliances. The Elves of the Forest to the west of his Labyrinth for one and he managed to just barely keep to tolerable relations with the Lords of Village Spring to the south west. It was however a drain on his resources. His goblin armies had been constantly out patrolling the borderlands over the last decade, lending assistance and chasing away those damnable Riders that he _knew_, but noone could prove, were under orders from Mordred. It had only been getting worse over the years, requiring more and more soldiers. It was a cunning plan, and played over time it had left little in the way of resources for him (or anyone else he supposed) to fortify their own defences.

Once it had been enough to simply lay down some walls, defend the primary borders of the kingdom and keep faith with neighbouring regions. The game had grown crueller now, rather like a fatal chess match where 'check mate' meant the utter destruction of one side. He considered his place on the board. Mordred play a deadly game, limiting his allies through suspicion, harrying him with challengers that were easy to dispatch and keeping his armies occupied with Riders. Jareth had always thought his kingdom safe on three points of the compass, but Mordred was cunning. He was blocked into a veritable corner, for behind him lay the sea and north the great desert, while to the south-east the mountains and a vast no-man's land; Urien's Isthmus. Jareth rested his chin on steepled fingers. No, not a no-man's land; it was _someone's _land now.

The Stone King was a power to be reckoned with, they said – whoever 'they' were, and many were jockeying for position. It was said he'd called his own fortress from the very rocks beneath the sand, that the ground trembled in awe beneath his feet, and that the wind and waves were at his whim. True, his ability to manipulate the elements was not unprecedented in the Underground, but it was unusual to the fae, as was the rumoured extent of his mastery over the elements. His immunity to the ocean was also unusual. The fae abhorred water affected by currents, but this man had founded a kingdom on trade in fish; a delicacy in the Underground. Jareth supposed the man to be of mixed blood to have such an immunity.

Jareth traced a finger along the coast line stretching as far east of his Kingdom as Avalon, following it south past Urien's Isthmus and deep into Unseelie lands. The Isthmus had been neutral territory – unwanted for so long and so poisoned by the sand that it had lain unclaimed by the fae for millennia. Wild creatures ruled there, driven from the innards of the land to the barren outskirts. The fae that had attempted to tame the land had failed to make it yield plants and the land had been let alone. That the Stone King, in only a few months, was flourishing there was unexpected. His choices of allies too were strange. Rumour had it that he'd somehow struck a bargain with the Sirens, survived several attempts on his life by a rogue leprechaun that he'd eventually turned ally, and kept a hellhound as companion.

"Ridiculous," Jareth snorted.

His goblins were bad enough to manage, let alone treating with murderous Sirens, taming a wild hellhound and avoiding the machinations of leprechauns. It all seemed too fantastical. He didn't even know why he was thinking about it. The Stone King held no interest for him unless he had his heir lying about. He smirked, now there was a ridiculous thought.

_Toby_, the name sent a pang through Jareth. T'was such a pity that he had bonded with the child before the girl's unexpected victory. Perhaps if he'd spent less time with the boy and more time actually attempting to stop _her_, she wouldn't have stormed his castle and taken back the child.

He banged a fist against his desk in frustration, "She shouldn't have won!"

Out of habit he called a crystal to him, searching for Toby's face within its depths. Unsurprisingly, nothing appeared and the crystal lay forgotten on the desk. He sat back, frowning. Sometimes he would be graced with a flash of blue eyes and blonde hair and a happy smile. He had that at least – Toby was happy. It was only poor timing that his Heir's presence was required, otherwise Jareth would have been content to leave the boy in the care of his mortal family till he were older – or just Sarah, as it were. At least Above he was safe from the oncoming war.

It was rare when Jareth's thoughts drifted to her. His defeat still rankled, moreso with the pain of the bond with his Heir tugging near-constantly at him. But he respected her, if not for her victory then for the care of Toby. Had the boy appeared anything less than utterly happy in the few glimpses he was awarded, he would have searched to the very ends of the Above till he'd found his Heir! A voice rudely awoke him from his thoughts.

"He reminds me of the babe!"

A fat little goblin was pointing at the crystal. Jareth leant forward, eyes focussed on the image of Toby. Jareth could see he was laughing. A red blanket was settled around him. Jareth smiled.

"The babe with the power," Jareth smiled as he sang softly.

"What power?" the little goblin replied, gleeful.

Jareth chuckled, murmuring the song to the crystal as if somehow Toby would hear him.

"No!" the little goblin suddenly declared energetically, grabbing at the crystal, "Stay away from him! He's not your voodoo baby!"

The crystal in hand, the little goblin looked up at the Goblin King who now loomed large and dangerous over him. He let out a squeak, recognising danger but not sure what he had done. His little goblin mind worked over time. It was apparent that whatever he had done (or not done) was _not_ a kickable offence. It seemed much worse.

"What. Did. You. Say?"

"Um…" his beady little eyes swivelled about. The exits seemed so far away. He looked back at Kingy.

"Well?"

The fat little goblin burst into fat little tears, "Isawshim!Isawshim!Isaysheremindsmeofthebabe!ThenshesayhenotthebabeandI'sthoughtshewasthebabebuthe' 'ssingandsheyellatme!"

Jareth, through his anger, thought he had been dealing with goblins far too long for he understood every garbled syllable of the drivel the little cretin had just sobbed. Somehow, somewhere, this goblin had clapped eyes on the girl and hisHeir! Spoken with the girl even! He shook his head in disgust at the sheer stupid luck. He'd had his best subjects scrying the Above for them, and it was _this_ ridiculous creature that had stumbled upon Toby. He wasn't sure if he ought to Bog the wretch or reward it.

"You _saw_ the babe?" Jareth asked, as if to clarify.

The goblin nodded pathetically.

"Where?"

The goblin pointed out the window of the castle, toward the mountains to the south. Jareth wasn't sure what that meant. He was mostly aware of all ways in and out of his domain. Had there been a breach in the veil between worlds that the little goblin had fallen through? It happened sometimes, and often the tear soon repaired itself. But he couldn't imagine such dumb luck happening in this instance. To have the veil tear and the goblin stumble through it only to find Toby and then return again to the Underground? It seemed a tad more than simply lucky.

"You'll need to be more _specific_," Jareth bit out.

"The Crystal Caves," it sniffed.

"Impossible!" Jareth burst out.

That would mean Toby was _here_, Underground!

"When!" Jareth barked, "When did you see him?!"

The little goblin counted on his fingers, and then his toes, and then stood up and counted one of Jareth's fingers.

"This many moons ago," he said proudly, holding up his sixteen digits and nodding at Jareth's one to include it in the count.

Jareth felt like slumping into his chair. Toby had been Underground over a year ago! His Heir, here! In the middle of a war! He would _kill_ her!

He quickly set pen to paper and sketched the face of the girl before showing it to the goblin.

"Was she there?"

"Yes! The lady!" the little goblin clapped his hands happily and hopped excitedly from one foot to the other, he pointed to the crystal again, "He there too!"

Jareth spun toward the crystal to see the face of a large red monster chasing after Toby. His face twisted in anger as he watched the traitorous monster lumber after the boy. He felt his magic swirl within him, agitated. He attempted to calm himself, but the sight of a ridiculous fox-terrier knight standing at attention beside his Heir forced the magic from him in a pulse. It smashed the glass in the room and caused the candles burning to roar into large, menacing flames. His hair stood on end as he glared, incandescent with rage, at the happy scene.

"_Treasonous teraks_!" he hissed.

He watched the scene intently, searching for the vaguest clue as to their location. His mind worked to process the rough land, unable to recall such a place in the Underground where lush green fields ruled. He thought perhaps he glimpsed the sea, when Toby was suddenly lifted in the air and behind him, as clear as day, the Great Range dividing his Labyrinth from the southern lands stood tall and proud. Jareth's eyes widened in realisation as the crystal went blank. Jareth crushed it beneath his fist, knowing from past experience that the girl had to have arrived. He had never been able to see her by magic since she had left the Labyrinth.

The little goblin edged out of the room while the Goblin King stood over his desk, the shards of the broken crystal sparkling from beneath his gloved hand. His marshalled his thoughts and put a leash to his anger. Toby, his Heir, was Underground, as was the girl, south of his lands and the Great Range and apparently with the assistance of his most untrustworthy subjects. His anger fired again, the crystal shards beneath his hands now ground into a fine powder.

He had been made a fool of _again_. The girl, _Sarah_, had foiled him. No doubt she was laughing in her victory over him. A part of him, a very tiny sliver, applauded the girl. She'd bested the Labyrinth and managed to remain hidden from him within his own domain. She'd beaten him at his own game – twice. A mere mortal had bested him. Again. It stung. He, a fae, magical and many thousands of years her elder and better, had been humbled by her. He sneered at the broken crystal. The nerve of the girl! It was not to be borne! No wonder no trace of them could be found Above!

"Right under my nose, this entire time," he spat disgustedly, "Well, your game of hide and seek is over. Ready or not, precious, here I come!"

* * *

_Yeah… I'm sorry. I said they'd meet up and they didn't. It was going to happen, but then it seemed a bit contrived and then this came out and I thought *wow*, a PO'd Jareth is pretty hot stuff… don't you think? I have plans for some fun conflict. Someone asked if Jareth is going to have a sword fight with Sarah. YES! I know it has to happen – I think there's a rule somewhere on it…_


	11. Chapter 11

Some of you said this chapter ought to be awesome. Thanks! Though I know you're really talking about the _next_ chapter about Jareth hehe. I really appreciate the reviews. I love getting a reader's perspective on the story and some of the things said really surprise me and give me ideas. The story is already written out in my head – what will be will be. Major plot events and people will remain, but sometimes I'll make a slight but important in how they take place. Some of you have mentioned the Stone King in your reviews – just as a reminder, he was mentioned/described back in Chapter 6 and Jareth will meet him in the next chapter.

Muchas gracias and merci beaucoup! Enjoy!

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Chapter 11

Aboveground: Mid-Late 1986

Underground: 11 and half years since _Labyrinth_

There was little disagreement amongst the cave-dwellers that the discovery of their home by the Riders merited a swift removal. The attack on the northern parts of the kingdom was bold, and undoubtedly a preliminary strike. Many grumbled about dishonour and days when honest wars were fought. In the midst of this, Sarah was swift to argue her point and pushed unrelentingly for the group to move south.

"You're right, this war won't be fair. It'll be ugly and brutal. That's why we should strike out on our own," she insisted.

"We should seek shelter from the neighbouring kingdoms! They will take us," an older kobold declared.

"War would still find us," Gavyn shrugged.

"Exactly!" Sarah cried.

"But we'd be protected!"

"Are you kidding me?!" Sarah almost shouted, "Noone's going to give us free room and board. They'd more like make us part of the army so we earned our keep!"

"I'm too old for the army."

"Then you'd be put to work feeding, cleaning or serving the army," came Gavyn's swift reply.

Sarah nodded, "All other lands in the Underground are kingdoms of one lord or another. If we join them, we'd become their serfs. But if we stake out our own land, we'd be free. Isn't that what we want? Isn't that what we've been doing, living on border of two kingdoms in dusty caves?"

"But where could we go?" a female voice asked, "You said it, all the land is taken."

"Not all," Sarah said, her voice gaining strength, "There's land south that noone has claimed. Urien's Isthmus."

The group murmured amongst themselves, and hushed whispers of 'No man's land' could be heard uttered about the room.

"Its dangerous there. Wild," someone said nervously.

"And war _isn_'_t?_" Sarah was incredulous.

"But its _No Man's Land_," came another superstitious voice.

"Then we'll make it _ours_!" Sarah declared stubbornly, "_Our land_."

It was a compelling statement and even the most fearful felt a new longing birthed in them. A land for their own! No fae lord to rule over them! No war to threaten, and freedom – sweet freedom! The eldest began to recall the old days of yore when the Underground was free and untamed. A time before the first fae fell from the sky and claimed the Underground. Many heads began to nod and soon the group was in the midst of detailed plans for their removal.

Within days the group had left the caves. With little in the way of belongings, and what there was being mostly communal, a large wagon easily held all their things with space for additional supplies. Sarah headed much of the preparations. She was a natural leader, had a strong personality, and could hold a thought in her head without being easily distracted. Her eagerness to take charge sat well with Gavyn, who foresaw a future need for, at the very least, a representative. The group could flee the coming war, but it would inevitably follow them.

The journey south took the group over a fortnight to manoeuvre around the mountain range to the top of Urien's Isthmus. Along the way they traded with many villages, bargaining with Sarah's jewellery for food, fabric and supplies. As a precaution, each of the group were equipped with a weapon of choice – be it a sword, knife, bow, axe, hammer or otherwise. It was a wise decision, as there were some made desperate by the Riders, whom sought to attack them and take their provisions. It was a sad sight when people were made desperate, but Sarah gave them no quarter. She would defend her own, and did not hesitate in turning her elemental powers upon the would-be bandits. But there was kindness in her, and their group had expanded by more than a dozen by her own invitation.

Gavyn was prodigiously proud of Sarah. She was able to maintain her mask throughout the day now, and had dulled her hair from a deep brown to a rustier colour. That particular piece of magic would take time, but he knew her ability to manipulate the elements had grown and he knew it would exponentially increase upon her reaching adulthood. It was the way of all Underground creatures, after all. There was but one thing that niggled at him, for it seemed to him that their group had run into more, much more, than their fair share of trouble. Ever since the day on the mountain when their hideaway was discovered, they'd been beset by troubles of one sort or another. It didn't sit well with him, and he set himself to careful observation but could not discover the source of their trouble. Whatever was acting against them, it covered its tracks well.

Sarah was unaware if Gavyn's concerns. Not that she had a basis for comparison on what was too much or too little trouble Underground. Much of her energy was spent seeing out one day through to the next. She was often preoccupied with plans and observations such that she seemed a mystery to those around her. She was liked, and loved by those closest to her. Ludo, who knew her best, was always nearby. But even he wondered at the dark-haired girl whom he knew had defeated the Labyrinth, fled the Above with her brother and now led them south. She was so very strong; rarely allowing emotion to overcome her, and he worried in his beastly way for her. His Sawah held many secrets tightly to her and while she led with strength, he would be happy if she would smile freely, without the cares of the world weighing upon her young shoulders.

Often he would ask her, "Sawah happy?"

And she would reply, "Yes Ludo. I'm happy," with a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Seeing her now, though, mouth set and eyes alive with the spirit of adventure, Ludo was content to see her fiery spirit hadn't diminished. His great red eyes looked to Toby, seated within Marg's arms. Ludo smiled at the picture. Marg had become special to him over the past few months, and he hoped to court her soon and then, after a time, maybe her arms would be filled with their own little ones. Safe within Marg's arms Toby yawned as Marg cooed softly at him. The black cat, never far from Toby, stirred itself to pad over to his human. There was something about Toby. Ludo had seen that the little boy had a way about him, something unnameable that wrapped itself around you like a warm blanket. He drew all creatures to him like that black cat, which had recently been joined by a small blue bird. Ludo was fairly certain the tree-sprites watched over the boy as well. Once he thought he might have seen a flash of white hide and great antlers in the woods, but when he turned to look it was gone. Ludo would have put it out of his mind, if Gavyn too had not first looked to him, and then to Toby with a meaningful glance, and it created between them a bond to observe, protect and watch over the group. Yet despite their vigilance, strange things began to occur. Slime and snails would coat the wagon overnight, taking time away from journeying in cleaning. Then things began to turn up.

"Where did this come from?" Gavyn said, holding up a swatch of beautiful silk.

Noone could tell him. A golden goblet appeared. Then a necklace Sarah had admired back at a market, and a tunic for Marg. The silk disappeared one night but was found again a day later, but this time sewn into clothes for Toby and a robe for Sarah.

"Fit for royalty," Gavin noted absently.

They were dumbfounded, but noone knew and they could not catch the person doing it and so the perpetrators remained a mystery. Noone really complained, especially when freshly baked cakes popped up in odd places.

It was a fortnight when they had finally traversed around the range and could hear the waves of the Siren Sea lapping at the beach. The morning was fresh, the air crisp and moist and the day bright and beautiful as spring spread her wings, till a woman's shrieking cry split the forest. Sarah took immediate charge and nodded to two of the men, a kobold and a dwarf, to investigate. They went, hammer and axe in hand, only to return minutes later.

"Rider," one panted, "E's got a Siren."

"Siren?!" Sarah was surprised, "What's a Siren doing this far from the sea?"

"Twuble," Ludo growled.

"Too right! Tis' too much trouble we be running into!" Gavyn groused, looking meaningfully at Ludo, "We should keep moving," he said and urged the wagon forward.

Sarah was startled by his callousness, "What? Why?!"

"Ain't no use," he replied.

"She needs help!"

"Does she? Yer fer certain tis' nowt a trap? Tat' soon as we go to help, chit won't kill us?"

Another scream rang out.

Gavyn scowled, "Me girl, 'tis what Siren's do. Lure men in an' drown 'em."

"Men?"

Gavyn nodded.

"Great to know," Sarah said, and took off into the trees.

Gavyn cursed again, "Merlin's balls!" and hobbled off after her.

Sarah burst upon the scene, mask in place and stones readied for her command. The Rider had pushed the screeching Siren to the ground, and Sarah could see her scratch desperately at him. Sarah heard the Sirens heavy rasping and grey face, giving the impression of a fish out of water, while the Rider was growling in a language Sarah couldn't understand. Nevertheless, Sarah saw well his ugly intent. Enraged, she released the rocks and called instead upon the air. Her fingers splayed wide, arm stretched toward the Rider, which she then pulled back toward her sharply, forming a fist. The Rider crumpled to the ground, the breath stolen from his lungs. He lay choking and Sarah watched on mercilessly. The Siren scrambled out from underneath him, hissing defensively. He struggled weakly, but without breath stilled after minutes till he lay limp, cold and dead on the ground.

Sarah's fist remained clenched and sweat beaded on her brow. She knew he was dead, could see he was dead, but was unable to move for the shock. She was shaken and shaking. Hands grasped her shoulders and her eyes looked to but did not truly see the old man shouting at her.

"Sarah! Lass! Snap out of it!" he yelled into her face.

When she didn't respond he slapped her. She blinked. Her eyes misted as they took in the body of the Rider. Her body folded in half as she wretched dryly. Her legs felt like jelly, and the blood rushed from her head. White spots swam in her vision as she burst into noisy sobs. From behind Gavyn an angry scream sounded and she found herself thrown backward, her head hitting the soft ground. Her tears blurred her vision and though she swiped at them, all she could see was the shape of Gavyn and a large black animal bearing down upon him. Cold, pale arms wrapped around her and a beautiful voice whispered in her ear. She looked to her shoulder where the Siren smiled at her through rows of sharp teeth. Her hair was dirty and lank, her eyes dull and teeth yellowed; a beautiful corpse-like woman.

"Pretty boy, pretty boy, be mine?"

Gavyn shouted with pain, and Sarah's eyes snapped back to him. His arm was bloodied and hung limply at his side. He cursed several times, and to Sarah it seemed the hell-horse laughed evilly at his pain. Quicker than a snake, Gavyn lashed out his hand and planted it squarely on the horses' brow. It screamed, then just as quickly collapsed to the ground. It was dead.

The Siren nuzzled her neck.

"Sarah, get away from her," Gavyn whispered hoarsely, holding his arm.

Sarah stumbled to her feet, and the Siren did not stop her, only whined temptingly, baring herself to them.

"Come away, pretty boy, and I'll be yours."

Gavyn snorted, "To th' death, no doubt."

The Siren hissed, "Speak not, _navun!_ I offer reward for my dear, sweet, one," she smiled prettily at Sarah, "Come, come away, lovely boy…"

"I'm not a boy," Sarah said flatly, letting go the illusion masking her features.

The Siren gaped at her, then laughed beautifully through her fangs, "Pretty _girl_!"

Gavyn stumbled suddenly, still bleeding and eyes glazed. His hand clutched at his shoulder where the horse had bitten him.

"Gavyn? What's wrong?" Sarah demanded worriedly, throwing his good arm around her shoulders in an effort to keep him up.

"Poison," the Siren said knowingly, indicating the dead hell-horse.

"Is there a cure?" Sarah asked her as she struggled to hold him upright.

The Siren shrugged.

"Gavyn? I need to get you back to camp!" Sarah said as he drooped even further, "Can you help me?" she asked the Siren.

The Siren nodded slowly, "For the debt owed."

Slowly they made their way back to the others. The males balked at the Siren, save Ludo who stepped forward and took a swooning Gavyn in his arms. Sarah asked, but none knew what could help Gavyn's wound. His eyes rolled back as fever and restlessness overcame him, and Sarah feared for his life.

"Come. We shall assist."

Sarah turned to the Siren, "I thought you said there was no cure!"

"We shall do our best," she promised, her sea-blue eyes sincere.

There was some protest, but as none could help Gavyn they had little choice but to entrust Gavyn to the Siren. A small group carried him while the rest stayed with the wagon. They followed the seductress south toward the sounds of the sea and smell of salt. She flit between the trees before them, seeming to grow stronger the closer to the water they were till she glowed with vitality. The dullness faded, her hair was bright, eyes sparkling and cheeks full with colour. Sarah would have marvelled more at the change if Gavyn weren't uppermost in her thoughts.

A rocky outcrop appeared, and on it dozens more beautiful women sat. They sang joyfully, and the Siren called to them in her own tongue. Seeing her, they leapt into the sea to appear moments later before them on the beach. The Siren clacked at them, pointing to Gavyn and Sarah in turn. The women all turned as one and surrounded the pallet upon which Gavyn lay. One pressed her lips to his.

"We assist," the first Siren said to Sarah.

They group lifted the pallet, moving with Gavyn toward the sea. Ludo protested, a worried whine escaping his large lips as the sirens disappeared under the waves with Gavyn.

"He will return," the Siren assured, "Till moon-time; feast, rest. You shall be safe."

At her words it seemed a hundred fish leapt from the waters to the beach. Sarah and the cave-dwellers stood shocked at the sight while the Siren watched on impassively.

"Feast," she repeated when they did not move, and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Sarah shouted, "What about Gavyn? What are you doing with him? Who are you?"

The Siren frowned, "We assist," she waved a hand as if that explained all.

Sarah, though tired, dirty and worn, looked the siren dead on, "Who are you? How do I contact you?"

The Siren frowned again, seeming frustrated, "We," she made a circle with her hand, "We are the sea. We are the one and the ones."

_Right_, Sarah thought, "And how do I contact you?"

The Siren moved forward, took Sarah's hand and scratched a talon across the pad of a finger. A droplet of blood welled from the tiny wound. The Siren sniffed at it, scenting it, her tongue darting out to taste the blood. She indicated to the wound and then to the water.

"I'm to spill some blood into the sea, is that it?" Sarah asked impatiently, attempting to remain in control while anger and grief welled up in her as the day's events slowly ate away at the corners of her mind.

The Siren nodded happily, "Offering is calling."

Sarah wanted to roll her eyes, "Fine. Till moon-time."

The Siren trailed a claw down Sarah's cheek, "A debt. Pretty girl. A debt is owed. Offer, pretty girl, and we shall answer the call."

Sarah jerked her head in a semblance of a nod. She was beyond tired, beyond unnerved and needed to find a private place where she could crawl into herself and hide from the ugliness of the day. The Siren tipped her head in return and padded away, wiggling her talons in a mocking goodbye to the cave-dwellers snatching up all the fish. Sarah's stomach rumbled but she staggered through the throng of people toward the trees. Someone shoved a bag at her, her hands automatically clutching at the canvas. Finally in the trees, she spotted a great hollowed oak and moved toward it, intending to shelter within the gnarled wood. Once there she sat heavily, her head dropping heavily into her hands.


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry about the delay in chapters. I had uni exams and had to study. Not sure if it helped – the exam was a nightmare.

There's been some ?Questions? about the **time line**. So here's the situation:

-Time moves differently Underground to Above. While its 13 years Underground in this chapter, only 2 years have passed Above since the events of Labyrinth.

-Sarah's chapters are currently a year and a half behind Jareth (11.5 Underground years since Labyrinth).

-Jareth comes into the story 12 Underground years since the events of Labyrinth. His first chapter begins 12 years after Labyrinth. This chapter he is 13 years after Labyrinth. Sarah's story is yet to catch up to Jareth's, but it will.

-Sarah and Toby's ages are about the same as they would be Aboveground. Sarah was born in 1970, and Toby in 1984. I'm supposing that while she's spent 1.5 years Underground, her physical growth catching up to the magic of the Underground will be slow. She won't look 16 forever. Toby is only 2.

-The timeline is shown at the top of each chapter (time Above and Under).

-Let me know if there's anymore confusion.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Aboveground : Beginning 1987

Underground : 13 years since _Labyrinth_

Jareth waited impatiently in the small antechamber leading to the throne room of the fortress. The red sandstone walls were well lit, with large windows overlooking the sea and despite the humble size of the building. Despite his agitation and desire to simply commence the search for his Heir, Jareth was impressed. The building was not ostentatious, but still it spoke of the power of the man whom had called it into being. It was clear that the fortress was only newly constructed from the clean cornices and ruts that showed no water damage or darkening of age. Adding to this the city had no walls or turrets, or any military structures, but it was readily defendable. Had the Stone King shown his power in a more boastful way, Jareth would have been inclined to think the man an arrogant fool. As it was, the silent expression of his abilities for those with eyes to see it declared it most decidedly.

"He will see you now."

Jareth looked to see a silver-haired youth eyeing him critically. The same boy he had seen but briefly after dispatching Lord Cael. This was the Heir, Jareth supposed, eyeing the boy in return. He appeared past maturation – that awkward adolescent phase between childhood and adulthood, and his stance suggested one whom knew from experience how to hold himself. But unlike Jareth the youth did not move with a predatorial grace. Not yet, Jareth supposed, but he held promise. Again, despite his preoccupation with other more important things, Jareth found himself approving of the Heir apparent.

"Your goblins are being taken care of," the youth added, "As are your animals. They will be treated well."

Jareth smirked. Such courtesy barely existed Underground these days. Too much was seen as weakness, too little an offence. The youth was green when it came to politics; that was certain.

"If you will follow me."

The tone was just short of imperious.

_Definitely green_, Jareth thought, _Someone is used to getting their way._

Jareth followed him through the doors to see the same wizened old brown man stand from his seat at a small table, the large throne in the room's centre unoccupied. He wore no crown or rich robes, though he was dressed well. But not so far above the King's own citizens, Jareth noted. His garb was elven inspired, being loose and made for comfort. It lacked the frills of the fae courts, being more suited to the heat of the land over which he ruled. Jareth was in the garb of the fae courts, being a royal visitor, though it did not mean he felt overdressed in the least.

"Welcome, King Jareth. Please, sit. Eat. Drink," the King said, gesturing to the table.

Jareth knew then from where the silver-haired Heir had gotten his political disinclinations. Keeping his face neutral, he crossed to the table and sat graciously, selecting a slice of peach from the plate. He ate it in a show of trust. He was nevertheless relieved when he did not choke from poisoning.

"This is the first fruits of our orangery," the King explained with some pride, taking a piece of apple.

Jareth noted the broad brown hands of the King. His fingers were thick and strong, indicative of a working man. The absence of gloves was intriguing too. Most wore then to contain their magic as well as to protect their overly sensitive hands.

"Have some Willem, and for Merlin's sake sit down. There's no need to stand to attention," the King teased mildly.

Jareth selected another piece of fruit as Willem sat in the third chair, his posture rigid. He was a pretty youth, Jareth supposed, with his long silver hair hanging straight to his waist, pale skin and sharp looks. He was almost the antithesis of the King, whom was shorter, darker and of a sturdier build. He was wearing gloves too, Jareth saw now.

"Aren't you going to greet our guest?"

Jareth pretended distraction, but still saw in his periphery the humiliated glare Willem sent the King.

"We are pleased to meet you, Goblin King."

It would have been a formal greeting but for the soft lilt to the voice. He was most definitely a pretty boy.

"And I you," Jareth replied graciously, "I find myself impressed with your selection. Are these your own?"

_Have you tamed the land? _Was the underlying question.

The King smiled broadly, "Indeed they are! From our own orangery and the first fruits of many we hope."

"The sand," Willem explained with an elegant shrug.

"Of course," Jareth returned politely.

"So what brings you here?"

"Willem!" the King admonished, turning to Jareth, "Don't mind my boy. He's yet to appreciate the fine art of conversation."

"Not at all," Jareth said smoothly, "I come to greet a neighbour and look to a mutually beneficial relationship between our kingdoms."

"To what end?"

Jareth turned his sharp gaze on Willem, "For our peoples and their futures."

"War is in your future," Willem said stubbornly, "And we want no part of it."

"I don't speak of war," Jareth said diplomatically, "Though it is always a concern, particularly in these troubling times."

"Then speak plainly. What brings you here?"

Jareth supressed the desire to roll his eyes.

"Willem," the King intervened, "I believe Lady Mahryssa awaits you in the orangery this morning."

Jareth flinched inwardly at the mention of that woman's name. Mordred had already started to make inroads with the Stone Kingdom it seemed, and was using his best bait. The woman was incredibly beautiful, with long red hair and round sweet features belying the evil harpy lurking beneath those manicured claws. Lady Lian had been a minor irritant by comparison. Still, Jareth supposed Mordred had achieved a number of things with that debacle. Jareth had isolated himself by refusing to marry the insipid, but well-connected, fae. It had been a simple but effective play. This in mind, Jareth turned over the possibilities of Lady Mahryssa's presence in his mind.

"The Lady is well attended," Willem replied stiffly.

Jareth was intrigued. So the young buck was not enamoured of the Lady. It was a rare response to the sensual beauty. Jareth himself had been initially partial to her when he'd been younger and less well informed in the way of politics.

"And yet she expects you, my boy," the King insisted, "And we should not leave our guests unattended."

Jareth held back a smirk when he saw Willem throw the King a mutinous scowl before he stalked from the room. The King sat back, his hands twisted thoughtfully beneath his chin. He looked at Jareth with twinkling eyes.

"Just wait till you have one," the King joked.

Jareth couldn't help himself. He laughed.

"Willem is right though," the King said, "What brings you to our humble kingdom?"

Jareth didn't hesitate, "Trade. An alliance. Relations," he lied.

"What have you to trade?"

"That shall depend on what it is you want," Jareth returned.

"We have no need of material things, we are a simple people," the King paused, "But there are other things."

Jareth arched an eyebrow, an invitation to continue.

"Counsel," the King admitted.

"Counsel? In what matter?"

The Stone King leaned forward, "We started as several dozen or so, you know," he said, "Now in the space of a year we have had countless join our small kingdom. Refugees, you see."

Jareth nodded. The war had already begun, even if there had yet to be a formal declaration.

"You understand then, we require counsel on how best to manage our… economy and society," the King said slowly, "How best to implement such structures."

Jareth was intrigued. It was rare to have such a _new_ thing in the Underground and have the opportunity to be part of it from its birth. Again, despite his larger concerns, he was intrigued.

"What have you in place now?" Jareth asked.

"Nothing," the King admitted easily.

"Nothing!?" Jareth tried not to sputter in his surprise.

"Well, perhaps not _nothing._ Willem dispenses justice, manages the populace and sees to the taxes and tithes. Yet, my Heir is but one man, and necessity obliges us to somehow share the burden of managing the Kingdom."

Jareth was surprised that the youth was responsible for so much, and that the King seemed responsible for so little, by his own words. Again the presence of Lady Mahryssa entered his thoughts, and he wondered what she had brought to the table to trade. Marriage seemed too obvious a choice, but was a possibility. It would mean another ally for Mordred. An ally that was undoubtedly powerful and resourced. The monopoly on fish trade would be incredibly profitable for the small kingdom. Its location too would provide another unseelie stronghold bordering seelie territory and provide a safeplace to regroup during war. Jareth eyed the walls about him. If the Stone King had truly called this fortress from the very earth, then what was to say he could not tear another apart on a whim? The more Jareth considered the situation; the worse an alliance between the Stone King and Mordred appeared. His thoughts were interrupted when a small man in green appeared suddenly at the feet of the King.

"I'm lookin' fer –"

"_We have a guest_!" the King hissed.

Jareth stared down into the malevolent eyes of a leprechaun. It looked back, unflinching and impudent under his green buckled hat. Jareth wanted to stomp on it and have done with the nasty little sprite, but refrained from displaying such poor manners in the home of his host. It looked back to the King.

"Well, where is _she_?" it asked impatiently.

The King went red, and Jareth wondered why such a question would anger him so.

"Ye try me temper, little imp," the King said dangerously, the smooth formality leeching from his voice to be replaced with a deep brogue, "And lest yer wish to have a long visit with our dear Sirens, ye'll stay true ter yer words."

The leprechaun bared his teeth angrily, but remained subdued under the King's glare. Jareth soaked it all in, seeing now the rumours of Sirens and leprechauns were true. The King had somehow triumphed over them. He cast his eyes around, wondering if the rumours of the hell-hound were true too. He also had not missed the alteration in the King's speech. Another mystery.

"She be in the orangery, no doubt," the King said finally, "With a guest. Mind yer tongue!"

The leprechaun disappeared with a mocking bow and faint pop, leaving the King and Jareth alone again.

"Ye see what I have to deal with," the King said disgustedly.

Jareth nodded in agreement, "Not unlike the goblins, though my minions aren't so deadly as they are utterly stupid."

"Aye," the King replied, "I shall leave you now. I have things to attend. I will have someone show you to your rooms, and you are free to enjoy the grounds. Do keep your wits about you. There are more than just leprechauns here."

The King left with a nod of his head and gestured toward a large half-giant, half-kobold female. She stood just a head taller than Jareth – and he knew her to be shorter than the giants of her kind, though larger than he. She smiled, showing large yellow teeth.

"Follows me."

Jareth's room was not overly grand, but it was comfortable and he didn't doubt that it was the best they had to offer. It was the farthest room from the ocean, for which he was grateful, given that the tides pulled uncomfortably on his magic. He was less happy to find Lady Mahryssa housed in a room nearby, chaperoned by a dull widowed cousin, and made a note to avoid her as much as possible.

He took the opportunity to explore the grounds. His exploring was strategic but failed to give him a good understanding of the design of the fortress. Whilst practical, there appeared to be windows without rooms, rooms without doors and halls that led nowhere. It would have maddened him had he cared enough about its structure. In truth he cared only to search the region for his Heir and his scheming sister. He supposed they were nearby, at least within a day's travel. The mountains that had appeared in the crystal appeared just so from his location. Undoubtedly they had been one of the many refugees drawn to the place.

Steps alerted him to the presence of another, and he slid silently into the shade of a hedge. A figure momentarily emerged from the gardens where the orangery lay, a woven basket in hand. The face was cloaked by a scarf wound round the hair and neck – a way to avoid the heat of the sun.

"You there!" a feminine voice sounded shrilly from behind the hedge.

The figure turned, and from the distance betweenthem Jareth took in the long dark hair, a pert nose and defiant tilt to her chin. He felt himself jerk a half-step back. He blinked, the only movement further he allowed as he turned the possibility over in his mind.

_Too old_… his thoughts said, _Too womanly, this cannot be her._

"Where is his highness, Willem?" Lady Mahryssa demanded.

Jareth saw the girl address Lady Mahryssa, but could not hear her reply. He edged forward, the better to see the girl. She seemed too tall. Little Sarah had barely come up to his shoulder. This woman was several inches taller.

"He came this way, of that I am certain. Have you seen him?" Lady Mahryssa queried impatiently, her manner as high-born and condescending as any might expect of a fae of her rank and pedigree.

Jareth found her type _especially_ annoying. Little wonder he despised attending court. The girl replied again, this time with a curtsey. Apparently she had not seen the Heir, for Lady Mahryssa turned away to continue her search. Jareth stood at the end of the hedge now, watching as the woman watched Lady Mahryssa stalk the grounds. The identity of the woman eluded him still, for though from the distance between them there was an uncanny likeness, she was at least several years older. Her face was thinner, and her body curvier, than that of the coltish brat who'd run his labyrinth. He wanted to laugh, wondering if he would see the girl in every face now – o' the perversity! He likely would have laughed, later, in the privacy of his rooms, until her voice came to him upon the breeze and he heard muttered with distinct clarity the very words that had begun it all.

"I wish the goblins would come and take her away…" Sarah trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence and bind the spell; so Jareth did.

"Right now?" he asked silkily, revelling in the surprise and fear upon her face when she once again faced the Goblin King.


	13. Chapter 13

Ta so much for the feedback. Some issue still exist with the timeline so I'm going to try something a little different to assist, which is to have a calendar of chapters at the top of each chapter to mark the time. Let me know if it helps. The current chapter is bolded. I'll go back at some point and add this to the other chapters. I re-edited chapter 13 too. It sounded fine when I wrote it but re-reading it there were so many grammatical errors. Ugh. Breaking my own rules. Anyway… there are only a few "additional" sentences to this chapter if you've already read it to add some colour, but events remain the same. Cheers and enjoy!

**Calendar of Events**

Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Mid - 1986 - 10 years - c1 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.5 years - c3 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.8 years - c5 (S)

Late-1986 - ~11 years - c7 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.2 years - c8 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.4 years - c9 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.5 years - c11 (S)

**Late-1986 - 11.7 years - c13 (S)**

.

Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.5 years - c6 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.9 years - c10 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c12 (J) 

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Aboveground: Late 1986

Underground: Not quite 12 years since Labyrinth

The Sirens had kept to their word and healed Gavyn to the best of their abilities. Sarah had been grateful for their assistance, but hardened by the experience. Though two years had passed Underground, she knew that the new year had yet to turn Above and it stunned her that in less than six Above-months ago she'd been just another wilful 15 year old. Tears glittered in her eyes, because only six months before that her parents had been alive and she and Toby had had a happy home. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Sarah let the tears fall.

She was no longer a wilful child. She supposed a little sarcastically that killing a man, or whatever species the Rider was, in cold blood did that to a person. But she also knew better than to thing herself a mere 16 year old just because only a little time had passed Above. Two years Underground was a great deal of time to a teenager, and though her body remained that of a 16 year old girl, she had matured into young woman. It was why she allowed the tears to escape. Only a year ago she had felt desperately the childish need to stay strong and stoic in the face of danger and uncertainty. Big girls don't cry, as they say. But she knew better now the the value of tears.

A brown, gnarled hand lay upon her shoulder, interrupting her musings. She smiled as she covered it with her own. Gavyn was not completely well – the arm down from where he had been bitten on the shoulder was weak and trembled from too much exertion. It meant he was less able to manipulate the elements, and Sarah had been obliged to take on many more responsibilities. This meant manipulating the earth for their camps, purifying water and clearing the air – particularly any scent trails of smoke or food or other such telling odours. They were in the wilds of the Underground now, and danger could scent them if it wanted to. Nevertheless, she deferred to Gavyn out of respect and while she had become the leader of their small community, Gavyn remained her teacher and mentor.

"How goes things?" she asked him, her voice clear and calm as she stared out over the sandy plains.

"Good," he replied, never one to say more than needed.

His answer was true enough. After leaving the Sirens, the group of cave-dwellers and the refugees that had joined them - many of them lesser fae from farmlands whose homes and families had been hurt by the coming War - had set up a temporary camp of sorts by the Siren Sea. The people had been wary at first of being dragged to their deaths by the Sirens, but they had learned not to worry. Sarah's timely rescue of the one Siren had placed the entire pod in her debt, and she hadn't been shy in striking an accord with them. Gavyn's ruthlessness was rubbing off on her. Generosity was too valuable a commodity to be free when over a hundred families relied on her leadership. Thus, for her service, the Sirens would spare the lives of any of her people. The sea women had clacked their jaws irritably as to do so ran against their inherent nature. Sirens were after all born killers. Even so, they complied – bound by obligation and duty to the debt owed. A life for lives: a fair trade Sarah thought.

"And Toby?" Sarah asked.

Gavyn smiled, "He's with his harem."

Sarah rolled her eyes. The Sirens had taken a keen interest in Toby. As far as she could understand from their strange speech, the Siren she had saved from the Rider had been lured from the safety of the ocean by a small green man, then the Rider had come upon her – seemingly by chance. Someone had muttered 'Leprechauns', sending a frisson of unease throughout the group. They were a rare and dangerous breed, preferring to remain in the between and out of sight. Sarah saw Gavyn shoot Ludo a look, and made a note to herself to follow up on them later. For now, the Siren had her attention.

"Why did you leave the water in the first place?" she'd asked the sea woman.

The Siren had smiled and pointed to Toby, whispering 'voodoo child' in words only Sarah could hear. Sarah had bristled again at hearing Toby called such, but kept her counsel. Weeks later she certainly couldn't deny that there was something about Toby when strange, and usually shy, rare creatures continued to flock to him. Apart from the cait sidhe and the little blue bird that had led her to him, there were too the Sirens, spirits, sprites and dryads that doted over him. Sarah was near certain a brownie had adopted her brother as well. It was hard to tell given that the thing was invisible most of the time, but Gavyn and Ludo suspected similarly. It would explain the baked goods and clothes appearing here and there around their tents in the camp, and why they couldn't figure out who had done it. Sarah made another note to talk to the brownie about the evils of stealing, if she ever saw it. New things were nice, but not when they'd been pilfered from others. With all this going on, Sarah couldn't decide if any of it was good or bad. To her mind, Toby seemed as happy and normal as any 2 year old. A part of her wondered if the Goblin King was to blame; if he had somehow changed Toby during her run. She flushed as thoughts of him crossed her mind. Her dreams about the enigmatic fae had not faded in the least and she still woke in a sweat late at night with the lingering feel of his kisses and caresses fading on her skin. Part of her longed for the dreams (she was a young woman with certain desires after all). The other part of her wished it was some random celebrity who would take centre stage. Mostly she tried not to think about it at all – abruptly redirecting her attention to other things if necessary.

"What's for dinner?" she asked Gavyn, the suddenness of her question and red tint in her cheeks surprising him.

"Um… th' usual?"

Fish. Sarah thought she had never had so much seafood in her life. The Sirens attracted the creatures in spades, bringing them to shore as they doted over Toby. At first some had taken to smoking the fish to keep indefinitely, uncertain of their provisions. But when new fish were caught every day, the group had begun to take it with them to the nearer villages for trade. Fish was apparently a delicacy Underground and it traded well, meaning that they could support themselves as they scouted the area for a place to settle in. Thus far, they hadn't been successful.

The land was full with salt and sand, making it difficult to find a place for agriculture to grow and farm animals kept. Even though many of the cave-dwellers were vegetarians, their group had expanded such that a broader culinary perspective was required. It was a lucky thing for the omnivores that the fish was plentiful, because the game was scarce and very cautious. Sarah's jewellery had got them so far with provisions, but it would run out eventually and they needed to find a way to sustain themselves. For this reason, Sarah would make time every morning to play with Toby, check the camp and then head out to survey the land with a group of volunteers. Her elemental magic was key to assessing the ground for fertility, and so far it had found the surrounds to be barren from the salt content. This day they would head even further south than they had before in an effort to find arable land.

Going further south had its disadvantages. It was dangerous territory, ruled by wild magics and strange animals and lay close to unseelie lands from what Sarah could remember of the map. But they had little choice. They needed to find good soil. They set off early in the morning and true to expectation the land was dry with sand and rock. The going was difficult, and after riding for two hours straight south they made for a rocky outcrop to survey the plains below.

"Rest up. Eat," Sarah commanded briskly, hoping to find good soil and water once they were on the move again.

Lunch was smoked fish on fresh bread and the day unusually hot, making the fish smell even stronger. Sarah choked the sandwich down and washed her mouth out with the water from her leather canteen. The meal sat heavily in her stomach but she pushed away the nausea, choosing to lay back on her pack to allow the food to pass. Her rest was interrupted by a whinny behind her, and she angled her head back to see the horses stamping uneasily, the whites of their eyes showing. Sarah looked around, but could not see anything strange. None of those with her, a pair of dwarves, a kobold, an elf and a fae, seemed to notice anything awry. Still, the horses knew their business so she cocked her head to the side, listening intently but heard nothing. All was quiet. Too quiet.

She rose from her place with a casual stretch to look around. Still she could see nothing. Catching the eyes of the others, she indicated her concern and walked toward the horses. Reaching them, she undid the reins when great snarls filled the air. The horses panicked then, rearing and shrieking with fright. Caught by a stray hoof, Sarah was knocked to the ground as the horses bolted, neighing their terror. There was roaring and growling as the sounds grew closer now. Stunned from her fall, Sarah stumbled to her feet to see two massive hell-hounds circling each other.

Someone grabbed her then and dragged her away from the beasts as the hounds leapt at each other. Sarah gasped as they fell heavily upon each other, jaws snapping and claws slashing. Their fight drew closer to the group and again Sarah found herself pushed and pulled in an effort to flee the battle. The hounds paid them little mind, so focussed on each other to mind any collateral damage around them. They circled each other, and Sarah had the impression of great lions sizing up their enemy before striking their blows. A mewl broke their pacing as a small cub cried out to its mother. The larger hell-hound snapped its head to attention at the sound. The smaller hound roared ferociously, throwing herself desperately at the larger male trying to kill her cub. It was a mistake. The male was much larger than she and more experienced, and he batted her away with a mighty paw. She fell, and the male took the opening to bound toward the rocks where the mewling could be heard. The great animal disappeared for a moment, but Sarah could hear the sickening crunch of teeth just as the mewling ceased. The female howled her agony for the cub lost and leapt anew at the male, chasing after him in her fury. He minded her not, having satisfied his genetic need to remove all competition to his own offspring. With a roar he raced away back toward his own pride, the female bellowing her anger after him.

From her place Sarah could see the cub's body and could see that though it lay still, it yet breathed. Against reason, she crawled to it, reaching out a hand to lay upon its side. It was incredibly warm, but Sarah instinctively knew that it was too cold. Hounds burned with the fire of hell, and this one's flame was flickering out. It gave a whimper, its red eye peering up at her. She stroked along its iron scales soothingly, saddened for the cub despite her understanding of the way of nature. The cub's eye caught hers again, almost willing her to look at it – to look deeper and deeper until she felt as if she were staring directly into some strange, wonderful, deadly black abyss. In that moment she could feel something within it awaken something within her. Fire spoke to ember, and Sarah suddenly felt as if she'd burst into flames as pure elemental fire magic roared to life within her. Uncontrolled energy thrummed through her, pulling and pushing toward the cub. Its breathing evened, and Sarah watched with horrified fascination as the ribs beneath her fingers healed in a jarring symphony, even as her hands seemed to age; the baby fat thinning to reveal slim bones, long fingers and blue veins. The air fled from her lungs as she tried to pull away but fatigue had stolen her energy and she blinked through heavy lids as the cub's body grew hotter and hotter. The spines on its body flicked to life, burning bright red and then white hot, burning her hand. The pain shocked her, sending her into a lumpy heap on the ground beside the cub. Shaking from the burning, her eyes watered closed to the blurred image of a bright, blood red cub leaping up to greet its snarling mother.


	14. Chapter 14

Do you know I completely re-wrote this chapter? It was going to go in a whole other direction! Ah, the joys of authorship when you choose your own adventure! For me, it's almost like I'm not even writing it. It just happens and I'm as stunned as you! I'm fairly certain you'll love it.

Let me know if the calendar helps too. Enjoy!

**Calendar of Events**

Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Mid - 1986 - 10 years - c1 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.5 years - c3 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.8 years - c5 (S)

Late-1986 - ~11 years - c7 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.2 years - c8 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.4 years - c9 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.5 years - c11 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.7 years - c13 (S)

.

Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.5 years - c6 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.9 years - c10 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c12 (J)

**Early-1987 - 13 years - c14 (J)**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

"Don't tell me you didn't mean it?" Jareth taunted the girl.

She scowled at him, but said nothing as she watched him with wary eyes. It was definitely her; the same defiant spirit, glittering green eyes and proud upturned nose. He had called her a girl, but now he corrected himself for she was no longer a youthful baby faced child full of bravado. Sarah Williams was a young woman. The softness of childhood had melted away, leaving behind proud, aristocratic features. Though, he noted, perhaps not all the softness had melted away so much as migrated to other… areas. His eyes flicked downward noting the fullness of her bosom and hints of a rounded hip, hidden under the layers of simple light cotton desert clothes. She shifted irritably under his gaze, her lips pursing in acknowledgement of his perusal. He responded with a lazy smile.

"Firey got your tongue?" he teased further when she remained silent.

Her response was to glance over him. Her gaze was dismissive, her eyes flicking away after a moment and with his vanity pricked it was his turn to scowl. In turn, she too responded with a lazy smirk. He remained peeved, but was nevertheless slightly, only very slightly, impressed.

"And how are you enjoying my world?"

She started to say something, but her lips smacked closed before more than the mere formation of sound could pass her tongue. Jareth cocked his head, bemused.

"Not going to say anything? Such a pity."

"It's a piece of cake."

The retort, spoken in the soft lilting tones of the Underground, was less an irritant and more an interesting surprise to Jareth. The fat little goblin had seen the girl over a year ago, but it was apparent to Jareth now that her dress, manner and now speech belied a greater attachment to this world than one simply visiting from Above. She had made the Underground her home and the thought intrigued him. It took little reasoning to suppose that she would keep the boy, his heir, close. He studied her now, seeing the cautious stance and the steady watch she kept on his every movement. He had underestimated her once before as a child to his chagrin. He would not do so again. He would proceed with caution…not that he couldn't throw a taunt in every so often – he must act natural after all!

"The last time you said that you lost three hours, precious thing," he replied with a smug grin.

She smirked back at him, her expression superior, "Yes. But I still beat you."

Were Jareth less than the proud Goblin King he was, he would purse his thin pink lips and give an indignant sniff of his arrogant nose. No matter how the childish need to _win _overtook him, there were larger things at stake than his fae ego.

"A minor detail," he said smoothly, looking for all the world that indeed her victory was a matter of smoke on the wind and not an embarrassing blow to his vanity and image.

"My lady! My lady! – My Lord!"

It was to Jareth yet another humiliating reminder of the girl's insidious victory to see the ridiculous fox-terrier knight rushing through the hedges toward them. Jareth rudely ignored the dog's startled greeting, instead addressing Sarah.

"I see you have once again commandeered the loyalty of my subjects. By some misadventure, can I expect the giant and Hogshead to befoul my presence during my stay?" he sniped of the treasonous trio.

Sarah peered at him curiously, but spoke first to Sir Didymus, "Is everything okay, good knight?"

Sir Didymus, though he stood upright and at attention, quirked his head awkwardly between them before he spoke, "Er – no my lady. There is aught amiss…" he turned back to Jareth, "I say, my Lord, am I correct in understanding that you have no news of friend Hoggle?"

Jareth eyed the pair steadily, realising at once the situation he pasted a look of concern upon his face, "No. He left for parts unknown some months ago. He –" he paused for dramatic effect, "He was devastated after your flight from home."

He truly could care less about the dwarf. He doubted the twit had enough brains in him to get into too much trouble. But _they_ cared, and it suited him to play the hand he was dealt. True to form, Sarah's face crumpled with guilt.

"I should have contacted him…" Sarah said softly, looking to Sir Didymus.

"Now, my lady, I am sure he has come to no harm. As I found you, I am sure he shall too."

"And what a happy reunion it shall be," Jareth added sarcastically, "Shall we hold it in the Bog? For old times sake?"

"Oh what an honour it would be to host my dear friends at my old post! You are the very image of generosity, my Lord," Sir Didymus gushed as Sarah scowled.

"The castle still not up to visitors yet?" Sarah snarked.

Jareth wished again for the luxury of a good huff, but refrained, "Not at all. Your visit merely brought forward some renovations that were long overdue. I should be pleased to hold any gathering there. You do remember the crystal ballroom?"

Jareth was practically giddy to see Sarah's lips thin just that tiny little bit. He breathed in the sweet scent of victory, drinking deeply from its cup before allowing a short sigh of gratification escaping him. His ego revelled in the success.

"We'd be delighted! Such an honour…" Sir Didymus was gushing again.

"Perhaps another time," Sarah grated out, "Sir Didymus, I believe you wanted something. We shall leave you be and say good day to you, sir," she said to Jareth.

He wanted to snort as she bobbed the tiniest of curtseys toward him. It tickled him to no end to have her here, in his world, at his mercy again. He would certainly enjoy locking horns with her, and wondered when he would be able to begin his search for his Heir. If he assumed the worst, and she knew his goal, he would need to be cunning in attaining the boy. If she was smart, she would likely figure it out soon enough. Such things always had a way of coming out. He dismissed the thought of her being stupid or vain. Such delusions had cost him his Heir in the first place. What then were his options? How best to play his opponent? He supposed for the time being he could sufficiently distract her. He was after all not without his charms.

"And good day to you, lady and knight," he replied, sweeping them a low courtly bow.

Glancing up through blonde lashes, he spied the tell-tale flush upon her cheeks and withheld his smirk till she and the knight had disappeared from sight. He stood a moment, considering all that had occurred. She was here, and it was very likely that Tobias was somewhere close too. She was in the grounds of the fortress – but in what capacity? Was she a servant? The Lady Mahryssa had certainly addressed her without regard. Her clothing too was simple – a cloak and loose robes for the desert. Yet the dog had addressed her with respect, as one would their better. Not that Jareth put too much stock in that – the twit would glorify a twig if it had the merest title. Still, her standing here would affect his attempts to get to his heir. Had he stumbled upon her in the desert during a casual search, he would have been liable to snatch the boy and have done with it. But she was not in the desert, or even in the sprawling village surrounding the fortress. She was in the fortress, under the noses of his hosts. Any action from him would require some delicacy… or at the very least he would need to get away with taking the child without anyone being the wiser. He considered the woman that had faced off with him, putting aside his previous experiences of her. She had somehow aged beyond expectation. Jareth knew well only two years had passed Above though thirteen had passed below since her run. Moreover, the change was more than physical. Her responses to him had been the measured and careful response of one beyond childhood and having reached the age of reason. Not only that, though she was millennia younger than he, she had given nothing of substance away in any of her responses. He smiled then, recalling the hidden gall she had felt upon remembrance of the crystal ballroom. She had given something away. A small chink in the armour, but it was a start. Perhaps he had his opening to distract her, for indeed he was not without his charms.


	15. Chapter 15

**Calendar of Events**

Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Mid - 1986 - 10 years - c1 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.5 years - c3 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.8 years - c5 (S)

Late-1986 - ~11 years - c7 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.2 years - c8 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.4 years - c9 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.5 years - c11 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.7 years - c13 (S)

**Later-1986 – 11.9 years – c15 (S**)

.

Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.5 years - c6 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.9 years - c10 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c12 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c14 (J)

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Sarah awoke with a pounding headache. Groaning softly, she attempted to rise. The groan turned to a gasp as the muscles in her body screeched at her. She fell back against the straw mat, attempting to work through the pain. She forced her eyelids to open a crack, wincing at the light streaming in from the gaps in the rough curtains. She was in her own bed, in her tent. At least she knew she was safe and with that knowledge she allowed sleep to claim her once more.

She awoke again when the afternoon sun had dulled the harsh light. Her muscles still ached, but hunger and thirst drove her to ignore the pain to stumble into the camp where she could smell fish cooking over the fire. She could hear the sounds of music and dancing – not unusual since setting up camp. Reaching a table, she grabbed a mug of water and drank deeply, pouring another and another to slake her thirst. The music died down and Sarah began to realise that several dozen pairs of eyes were upon her. Too tired to feel awkward, she merely sat down, filled a plate and chowed down. When she was done, she stumbled back to her bed. When she awoke the next morning, Gavyn was standing there glowering at her.

"Ye are the stupidest, most wilful, headstrong lass ah've ever had the misfortune to call me pupil."

"Good morning, Gavyn."

Gavyn wasn't done, shouting, "Are ye tryin' to get yerself killed? Do ye want to leave the boy without any family? Join yer Da' in his grave?"

Sarah glared dangerously at Gavyn, angered beyond reason at his accusations.

"Cos' that's where ye be headed! The poor man no doubt be _rolling in his grave_ to know his daughter's shameful behaviour! Ye daft girl, playing with 'tings ye know nothin' about. Ye been lucky so far, but one day and likely soon ye'll be the _death of yerself_ _and yer brother_-"

Sarah's magic pulsed uncontrollably and in the space of a moment the tent was in flames and Gavyn thrown bodily out the door by the explosion. She was shocked at the power raging through her, knowing somehow something had changed within her for she could feel every molecule within her body come alive with elemental magic. The from outside, Gavyn groaned and she was at his side in an instant, falling to her knees beside him.

"Gavyn! I'm so sorry! You idiot –" she looked back to the flaming tent, "How did I do that?"

"Its elementary, girly. Fire," Gavyn sniped at her, a smug look on his face as he lounged on the ground.

"You – you set me off on purpose!" Sarah cried angrily when it was clear Gavyn was fine, "You _bastard_! I could have killed you!"

"Did you really think you could hurt me, lass? I'm older and know far more than ye do."

"But I – well," she pointed to the flaming tent.

"Yer really ought to put that out," Gavyn replied agreeably.

Sarah called on water to douse the flames, and a deluge appeared. She shrieked as a wave of water rolled over them. Beside her, Gavyn cackled.

"What's going on!"

"Ye've come into yer full power, lass."

"What? Why? When did that happen?"

"Yer full powers have come because ye've matured past yer puberty, girly. An' it happened a week ago."

"I did _not _have this kind of power a _week_ ago!" Sarah snapped back, "Not even yesterday! And what do you mean I'm past puberty? I've barely aged since I got here!"

"Are ye sure?" Gavyn cooed teasingly.

She hated how everything seemed a grand joke to him. It reminded her of a certain fae who delighted in tormenting her. She scowled at Gavyn when a small body barrelled into her.

"Sa-wah!" Toby yelled happily, curling into her side.

Sarah winced as her sore muscles were further abused, but put her arm around him, "Hey kiddo."

Ludo and Marg lumbered up after Toby, "Sawah okay?" Ludo asked.

"Yeah, I'm ok."

"You sleep for week, Sarah," Marg added.

Sarah looked to Gavyn who nodded his confirmation. She blinked, trying to process everything and remembered then the hell-hound cub. It must have done something to her. She stood carefully, uncertain of her magic.

"Tell me what happened?"

It was a long conversation, but the short of it was the cub Sarah touched had leached life from her to heal itself. It wasn't dark magic, but it was certainly primal and reminiscent of the old wild ways when magic existed as a tangible bond between all living things. Where magic had been shared and communally partaken; freely given and received. Sarah's encounter with the cub had been more one-sided. Her vitality had renewed the cub, as she had seen in the last moments of consciousness, but had not been freely given. Sarah had not known to give and so the cub had taken, leaching the life from her and literally taking several years of her life. Though Above she would be considered sixteen by her birth year, and her time Underground had given her the understanding of a young woman of about eighteen, the loss of her lifeforce had left her in the body of a mature woman in her twenties.

"Yer lucky the beast didn'a take all yer had ter give, girly," Gavyn had grumbled.

Whatever it had taken from her, Sarah found she couldn't regret she had unknowingly saved its life even as she was relieved she had mostly retained her youth. She had reached out to it as it lay dying from its wounds, and somewhere deep inside hoped for the power to save the cub. That her hope had unexpectedly come to fruition, well she couldn't find it in her to condemn the cub for surviving. Gavyn was disinclined to agree with her, speaking of it as a magical assault – a violation of the soul and spirit. Marg and Ludo quietly agreed, giving Sarah to understand the seriousness with which the Underground felt about magical coercion. She wondered then what they would have to say about a certain peach-gifting fae and his penchant for drugging young girls into delusions of Crystal Ballrooms.

"Girly, I dinna often say such tings, but I beg yer pardon for invokin' the departed," Gavyn said to her days later.

She gave him a short nod. It was cruel of him, needlessly cruel. But Sarah had learned that was very much the way of the Underground. It wasn't kind, and it wasn't fair. His words stirred up again the pain of losing her parents, making her long to see them again. She could laugh bitterly for the irony that she was now babysitting Toby full time. The memories drove her to her tent and the one thing she had brought Underground from Above. A small compact mirror, the one through which she had used to speak with Ludo. Opening the clasp Sarah wished to see her parents and the round surface rippled, revealing the small cemetery where they were buried, side by side. It was the work of a moment to pass through the charmed mirror, sending her sprawling onto the hard green ground beside the graves. She was glad to see the plots were well tended, and someone had placed flowers over the headstone, though they had wilted under the harsh cold of winter.

"Hi Dad, Karen."

She stumbled there, uncertain as to what to say when they wouldn't hear her. She could unburden her soul and tell them everything, but it felt too strange to speak to their graves as if they would listen and respond. So she just sat there, crouching against the cold in her desert robes and remembering happier times. A few stray tears fell down her cheeks, feeling like tiny icicles against her skin. She brushed them aside, knowing she'd probably always cry for what had been lost no matter how much time had passed.

The drooping flowers caught her attention as they swayed stiffly in the breeze. She couldn't tell what they were. She reached out a finger to run along a bruised petal, feeling the sort of sadness anyone feels to see what was once living waste away. It was a pitiful reminder of death in a graveyard and she suddenly couldn't stand it. She took the flowers from the vase and, with a little difficulty, buried them in the hard ground; a private symbolic act that had her staring out at the city skyline thinking over her life and the decisions she'd made.

It was an hour or so that she sat there when she finally stood to leave. Looking around, she felt a strange sort of disconnectedness. It wasn't where she belonged anymore. It was a place that she'd left behind and where she would never return. It wasn't home.

She turned to give her parents one last goodbye, wondering if she ought to have prepared some words but deciding not to be so contrived about it. They were long gone, and life was for the living – another thing she'd learned Underground, and she knew they would want her to live it. She went to simply lay her hand on the gravestone when her eyes caught the flowers. The same ones that she had buried in that same spot that were now growing there, alive and green and vital against the winter chill. Her eyes goggled at the sight, seeing but not believing. She knelt, touching a finger to the petals and damn it if the flowers didn't dance for her, swaying to and fro with no wind to excite their movement. She touched the flowers again, and they danced again. A bud opened beneath her hand, reaching toward her as if she were the sun.

"What the…oh!"

She laughed then. A crazy, happy, loud laugh that said _I know! I understand!_ It was a veritable eureka to figuring out some complex puzzle. Opening the compact, she clasped the headstones fondly before disappearing from the graveyard, the sound of her delighted laughter ringing out behind her.

* * *

_Did you figure out what Sarah figured out? :-D and what she'd going to do with it? If you guess, I will give you a hint to the next chapter... which is a *Jareth* chapter. Mmhmm, GK goodness, know what I'm sayin'? ;-)_


	16. Chapter 16

Hello! I'm so sorry about the delayed update. I've been finishing off a Master's degree (done now and have testamur), was in a stage play, and was an extra in several short films as well as shooting my own short film. I've been so busy the last 2 months that the story got put to the side. THEN I went on holidays to visit my family, and they live in the sticks (barely any phone reception, let alone the internet). I'm still on holidays, but managed to get a computer with internet, hence this update. A nice long chapter too. Enjoy!

**Calendar of Events**

Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Mid - 1986 - 10 years - c1 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.5 years - c3 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.8 years - c5 (S)

Late-1986 - ~11 years - c7 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.2 years - c8 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.4 years - c9 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.5 years - c11 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.7 years - c13 (S)

Later-1986 – 11.9 years – c15 (S)

.

Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.5 years - c6 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.9 years - c10 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c12 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c14 (J)

Early-1987 – 13 years – c16 (J)

Chapter 16

Jareth did not see Sarah again for several days. Even then, when he did see her, it was briefly and from a distance. Had he the time he might have attempted to follow her, but he was being kept quite busy by the various amusements arranged by his hosts. Thus, he was obliged to play the part of guest, attending hunts and playing party games with a number of other visitors. Apparently the Stone Kingdom had become _du jour_ Underground.

Lady Mahryssa he knew already to be there, and upon reintroduction at a garden high tea she smirked with some satisfaction upon the arm of Willem. Clearly the witch was well on her way to fulfilling Mordred's desire for an alliance with the Stone Kingdom. Jareth made a mental note to revisit the option himself, given his enemy's clear interest in the fledgling sovereignty. Others hoping to align themselves with his hosts included several other fae emissaries, and also representatives from the desert troll tribes, sprites, and elves. He was also introduced to a rude little leprechaun who insulted one and all, save for his good host. Jareth had the same inclination to stomp on the little turd as he had for his fellow little man before. Ghastly creatures.

The rag-tag bunch of high-fae mixing with less powerful magical beings amused Jareth, given his own outcast status. Still, it seemed he was destined to remain an outcast. His hosts, though more so Willem than the Stone King himself, seemed to have taken a special dislike toward him. The young Heir did nothing in particular to warrant any rebuke. In fact, he was appropriately accommodating. He was rather stiff and formal – as were his clothes, which seemed particularly cumbersome to Jareth's discerning eye. It was simply something else in his demeanour that Jareth couldn't quite place.

Perhaps it was Jareth's own paranoia. He had heard only that morning of Mordred's impending arrival. It was news that it put Jareth on edge to have such an enemy so close to his Heir, who yet remained outside his personal protection, even if that enemy did not know. Worse, he thought, if Lady Mahryssa had already managed to forge an alliance, with Mordred arriving on mere formality, then that would put both he and his Heir behind enemy lines. It meant time was running out to find Toby and ensure his safety. These thoughts drove Jareth to relentlessly pace the outer edges of the fortress grounds for several mornings.

"May I assist you, Goblin King?"

Willem's cool civility irritated Jareth, though less than the boy's ability to sneak up on him.

"I was simply admiring the grounds. I had hoped for a broader experience," Jareth replied, all courtesy, for it was courtesy that prevented him from simply leaving the grounds of the fortress of his host and scouring the countryside for his Heir.

"You wish to see the kingdom," Willem surmised.

Jareth bowed, "Indeed. I am interested to see how a once barren land has become so prosperous."

Fae etiquette demanded one refrain from making a direct request. It was a fools game to end up on the wrong end of a bargain. One hinted, offered, tricked, traded or took. One did not _ask_.

Willem inclined his head and offered: "I am to ride out today. If you would join me, I may give you a broader experience of the kingdom."

Jareth smiled as his hint was graciously taken; a rare circumstance, and replied, "I would be delighted."

The horses were saddled and the pair riding through the streets of the town in no time at all. The capital itself was quite small and compact, with most of the population preferring to live away from the city. Willem explained that the kingdom was largely made up of refugees, and their cautious inclination for anonymity had led to the population being less concentrated about the central political arena.

"Many have chosen to inhabit the north-western coast of the kingdom. As you know, the darker fae are to the south and few wish to live near _them_, save some ambitious trolls and a good proportion of our leprechaun friends," Willlem observed dryly, "However, the north-western coast has its own perils. Nobody lives there."

"Nobody?" Jareth enquired.

Willem smirked, "Nobody save the Sirens. Some have tried, but the Sirens are natural killers and there have been some… incidents. Accidental of course, but still, an accident around a Siren is often fatal. Mostly, the Sirens keep themselves busy and in the good graces of the kingdom by ensuring a steady supply of fish, which the locals take and sell."

Jareth nodded, "Yes, the secret to your success and prosperity in trade."

"Of course."

"But what of the farmland? Was it not barren? I cannot imagine the Sirens did much in that respect."

Willem smirked again, "Not at all. We had help from another quarter."

Jareth waited for Willem to continue, but his conversation had moved to pointing out various landmarks and resources. The rest of the ride continued on in the same vein, leaving Jareth to consider his ill-luck at having discovered Sarah may be located in any one of a number of settlements dotted about the landscape. He turned to Willem purposefully.

"I have quite enjoyed this little adventure."

Willem nodded his acknowledgement of the sentiment.

"I should hope to do so again soon. Do you often ride out?" Jareth pressed.

Willlem shook his head, "I do not often do much of anything presently. It is only recently when we began entertaining such illustrious guests that I find myself with so little time."

"I do not wish to impose upon you…"

"Not at all."

"Then I shall have to be content with today's venture," Jareth supposed gallantly, being sure to look, as fondly as he could, at his surrounds.

"Not at all. You are free to leave the grounds of the fortress. We do not stand on ceremony here."

Jareth beamed at having gotten his own way and with so little effort, causing him to reply teasingly, "If I could thank you, I believe I should."

Willem laughed, "Only be sure to mind your surroundings. There are yet dangers untold in this wilderness."

Jareth could not prevent the dark slash of his brows from raising queeryingly at the young man, "Dangers untold, you say?" he asked in a tone that was deceptively light.

"Erm… yes," Willem stuttered, his cool composure suddenly broken, though quickly regained, "Dangers untold."

"Such a strange notion," Jareth mused, "And yet not wholly unknown to me. Quite familiar, in fact."

"You don't say," Willem replied stiffly, "I hope I have not offended you, Goblin King?"

"Not in the slightest," Jareth assured him smoothly, "I do wonder where you heard such poetry. _Dangers untold_," he sighed dramatically.

"Here and there and nowhere in particular," Willem dissembled, "We have had a number of arrivals from all over the Underground. Sayings get around."

"Such a peculiar saying though. Rather unique to my own kingdom, the Labyrinth, hence my interest. Have you heard much of it?"

"Some."

"Ah. How wonderful. I should be delighted to meet my fellow countrymen."

"I believe you have already met with Sir Didymus."

Jareth's teeth gleamed within a toothy smile, "Yes. Fancy knowing such a trivial detail."

Willem's eyes narrowed, "I am aware of _all_ comings and goings in the Kingdom, especially that which occurs under _my_ own nose, in _my_ own gardens."

"I stand in awe of your awareness," Jareth demurred, privately wondering if the boy's strange standoffishness had occurred as a result of his protectiveness for a certain woman also in the garden when he had met Sir Didymus. The idea threw some interesting twists into the potential of Mordred's plans for an alliance. Jareth was titillated by the possibilities.

Their conversation had taken them back to the stables where they were then interrupted by the very witch Jareth had just, indirectly, thought of, and he cursed the devil's luck. He had been on such a roll.

"My Lord, I did not know you had decided to go riding out today," Lady Mahryssa admonished Willem, her red lips pouting prettily.

"It was a spur of the moment decision," Willem replied, dismounting.

"I had thought we might walk in the gardens."

Jareth thought he saw Willem roll his eyes.

"I appreciate the offer, Lady Mahryssa, but find myself quite tired from the ride."

"You must sit with me at dinner. I wish to hear all about your kingdom. You have such dedication to your people," Lady Mahryssa persisted.

"If I attend dinner, my Lady. I have much business to complete and have neglected it of late," Willem replied evenly, removing the saddle from his mount.

Jareth snorted, masking the sound as he dismounted from his own horse and looked to its needs. Lady Mahryssa shot him a glare but continued to pursue her quarry with plaintive eyes.

"I shall miss your company, if you must deprive me of it. Know that I am ever at your disposal, should you need me," her claws wound their way about his arm.

"I thank you, Lady."

Jareth was glad for the horse between his expression and the sudden icy silence between the pair across from him. _A hit, a veritable hit_! Jareth thought gleefully. Willem was quick then to make his bow and exit the stables. Lady Mahryssa remained behind. Her face was carefully blank, but Jareth knew beneath the mask she was simply _seething_.

"One word; just one _word_ and I'll claw your tongue from your maw."

Jareth almost scoffed. Who needed words when his ecstatic expression at her utter humiliation said it all? A picture, and one so handsome as the sheer triumphant glee upon the sharp lines of his face, said over a thousand words; and each one more potent than the last.

"Bastard," she hissed at him before storming away, the bright glory of her gown now an ironic salute to her walk of shame back to the fortress.

Jareth waited several moments before following. He did not wish to miss dinner, especially when it promised a show as well! Though neither did he wish to walk with such a harpy. But as he left the stables, whom should he stumble upon but the one person he desired to find.

"Hello," he said congenially, feeling rather on the up after the afternoon's entertainment.

"Hello," Sarah replied, her hair in disarray and cheeks dusty. Clearly she had been working hard. "I thought you had left."

"Oh! Eavesdropping were you? Such a fine quality in a young woman."

"If you say so," she replied coolly, making to go by him toward the horses just ridden.

He turned so that he was in her way, "I do say so. The fae appreciate sneakiness in all its forms."

He saw her bite her lip, and remembered a similar habit during their last conversation. He concluded correctly that she was literally trying to keep her mouth shut; likely from insulting him. His discovery of her little 'tell' was the cherry on top of what was turning out to be a wonderful day. He took a step closer.

"Little Sarah. I forgot to say at our last encounter how _grown up_ you are. Not quite so little anymore," he flirted, voice low.

Her eyebrows shot up upon her face and she shifted on her feet, "How observant of you."

He traced a gloved finger over her cheek, impressed when her breath did not hitch and her pulse remained steady, "Yet I know you have been in the Underground for only a short time. Not long enough to have aged so… well," his tone was appreciative, but then he paused, allowing concern to wash over his features, "Have you been cursed? I should not wish you to suffer…"

She smiled sweetly at him, "Only with your presence."

He laughed, genuinely amused, "You are a treat, precious."

Her reply was a cool but bemused glance. She moved around him to attend to the horses and saddles. He observed her from his place, noting her poise and grace, despite the day's dust on her humble dress.

"You will be late for dinner if you tarry any longer," she said as she pet the horse fondly on its nose.

"It's fashionable to be late."

"It's rude."

"Yes, your highness," he replied mockingly, though not cruelly.

She snorted, causing the horse to stamp at the sudden sound. He found himself wanting to stay here, with this girl who played no politics, rather than face a dinner table of thinly veiled intrigue. More to the point, he wanted to continue to wiggle himself into her good graces and find Toby. But again, larger concerns weighed upon him and duty was calling. He knew she would not lead him to Toby, and that he was expected elsewhere. He suppressed a sigh as he turned away toward his rooms to prepare for dinner. His thoughts were upon the irony of his last teasing words to her. For he thought, and he was not too proud to admit the truth to himself, that she seemed rather queenly indeed.


	17. Chapter 17

****A late but long post with +2700 words! Aren't you all spoilt. Thanks for all your lovely reviews. I love reading your theories. Some hit close to home and some are way off. Guess which ones? :) Cheers.

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**Calendar of Events**

Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Mid - 1986 - 10 years - c1 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.5 years - c3 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.8 years - c5 (S)

Late-1986 - ~11 years - c7 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.2 years - c8 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.4 years - c9 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.5 years - c11 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.7 years - c13 (S)

Late-1986 – 11.9 years – c15 (S)

Late 1986 – 11.9 years – c17 (S)

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Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.5 years - c6 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.9 years - c10 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c12 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c14 (J)

Early-1987 – 13 years – c16 (J)

**Chapter 17**

"Sawah magick!" Ludo praised.

"_Sawah _foolish!" Gavyn retorted harshly.

Sarah ignored Gavyn's disapproval, too pleased with herself and what she had accomplished. Her newfound ability to renew the barren soil with the cleansing power of fire meant they would no longer have to live only on a diet of fish! She oddly looked forward to eating her greens.

"Tis nowt wise," Gavyn muttered, reaching out to lay a weathered hand upon her bare arm. The contact eased the power surge within her as Gavyn siphoned of the excess, "Ye be grown now, girly. So ye have yer adult power. But ye be playing with deeper t'ings-"

"I've got it," she insisted stubbornly.

"Fire bows to nobody," Gavyn pressed, "Look to this old man. I know the cost of fire. How it steals life from ye. It flickers, tauntin' ya, till the moment it roars out of yer control. Heed my words, lest ye end up as old as me."

Gavyn rarely shared anything of his past. Sarah supposed there were some painful memories there that he did not wish to revisit. That he had imparted so much simply to warn her was significant for him, and Sarah looked at Gavyn with new eyes, "How old are you really?" she asked softly.

Gavyn shifted, "Old enough to be yer great-grandfather several times over. But here, nowt old enough to look so ancient," he cracked a rueful smile, "I be quite a han'some fellow if nowt for playing with tings I didn't understand."

"Why don't you-" Sarah wondered idly, till she abruptly closed off the thought.

"Why don't I what?"

"Take your youth back? Use the fire on yourself the way I use it now to restore the land?"

Ludo groaned with horror, and Gavyn's face turned serious.

"I would nowt do such a ting; 'tis a selfish and dangerous choice, and could only work if I were to kill a man fer his youth."

Sarah looked away, taking his point, but persisted in her questioning, "But you would kill him with a sword?" Sarah asked, confused.

"In defense of meself, me family, me honour and me king – had I one, but no, never for his soul, lest I be putting me own soul in danger. I would not leech a man of his life for me own desires, else I would become as the dark fae; addicted to their blood magics," Gavyn's tone was grave.

Sarah nodded, understanding the 'code' he had imparrted, "I'll be careful."

Gavyn smiled at her, "I know ye will. Tis the best I could hope for, seeing as ye canna be stopped."

With Sarah's new powers, they were able to better focus their efforts on finding the most preferred location to settle; not just a place to survive. They travelled further south, away from the Sirens and their daily fish catch, to where great plains of sand awaited them. The opportunities for farming were great here, and would allow their growing community to spread out. Small groups began to pitch permanent camps as they found desirable land where they wished to stay. Most chose land near to the coast, but some preferred the inland areas. Sarah's power was well-used in this time as she was called to renew the lands. So much of her energy was expended that Gavyn was little required to siphon off the excess. He nevertheless attended her at all times, always vigilant and ever wary of the unpredictability of the fire element. Though through its life-giving energy the land was slowly, bit by bit, restored, it would ever threaten their well-being.

Other things grew during this time too. Romance blossomed, as Ludo finally requested, in his Ludo way, to court Marg. The red giant presented her with wildflowers he had collected and she happily accepted his suit. The pair were often seen sitting together, wooing in the way of couples. They particularly enjoyed caring for Toby when Sarah could not.

Toby was growing by the day. Now two years old, he was always crawling or running toward trouble. He was speaking in full, but jumbled, sentences, and often with words borrowed from several Underground languages. Though a happy child, he was of that difficult age where he would often demand attention, then demand to be left alone. Sarah didn't mind, having come to appreciate her time with him, and instead sought to challenge her little brother and play learning games with him. Her favourite was hide and seek. She hoped one day Toby would be able to hide well if ever he needed to protect himself. She wanted to defend him always, but understood the simple fact that though powerful in her elemental abilities, she could not be everywhere at once. Her concern for Toby remained in the forefront of her mind. Though her fears had mellowed since they had left the region of the Labyrinth, the threat of danger was constant. Ever since the attack by the Riders and their subsequent departure from the Crystal Caves, the community had come into trouble many times. Too many times, and their 'ill luck' continued to be a thorn in the side of their peace of mind.

"There be witchcraft in this," Gavyn would mutter over each new incident.

It was not as if it had been obvious at first. That they had run into Riders on the road was simply bad luck. Food poisoning was thought unavoidable, along with its messy after effects. Then there was rust on their weapons. The horses became skittish horses and a number of breaks occurred in the carriage, costing them time, resources and lost items. Then there were the run-ins with the Siren and the hell hound. On their own, each event seemed innocent. But they had started to add up.

"What do you think it is?" Sarah had asked.

Ludo shook his great head while Gavyn spat curses.

"Goblins?" she continued.

Gavyn shook his head, "Were we near the Labyrinth perhaps. But goblins be harmless away from their own territory. They've nowt too much magic, so they stay near the safety of their King."

Sarah was surprised to think that goblins needed safety, and that Jareth was the one who provided it.

"Its not Riders…" she thought, "Or Sirens. We didn't meet them till well after we left the mountains."

"Tis nowt that brownie, neither," Gavyn added, "Unless it think you be a threat to yer brother."

Sarah shook her head, "Lilyan minds me as much as Toby. It couldn't be her."

It seemed their tormentor, whomever he or they may be, would continue to harass them. As time wore on and their company of refugees grew, the attacks seemed to become desperate, and more targeted. Accidents, that were not in the least accidental, began to occur too frequently for the facts to be ignored.

"Its ye, Sarah," Gavyn sighed mournfully, "They be after ye. Ye must be careful. Ye must disguise yerself when out of company, for yer own safety."

Sarah heeded Gavyn's words and once again wore the elemental mask she had first adorned so many months ago. Even so, she was not prepared one afternoon to be ambushed by several Riders so far north of Unseelie territory. She had used much energy that day as she wandered about renewing the lands, and had little left to put up her disguise, let alone defend herself against so many. They had burst upon her as starving alley cats upon a lone fat mouse, urging their mounts to run her to ground. She had barely time to turn her horse about and flee, fear driving her to ride for home and safety. But luck was with her, for her horse was swift and up to the task of carrying her away from an unspeakable fate under the hot desert sun. They were far from cover, and so she rode; rode for what seemed hours with Riders hot on her heels. They called out to her, mocking her, shouting their vile plans for when she was caught.

The horses began to slow as their strength waned leaving only fear and adrenalin. Still she urged her charge onward. If she could make the trees, she had a chance to at least hide. But could she escape? She did not know. A desperate idea formed within her mind. Perhaps she could renew the elemental energy within. But what of Gavyn's warning? She chanced a look back at the Riders. Did she want to steal life from them? Could she? Would it even work? Though she had some small idea as to how to do such a thing, what if the attempt failed?

These things turned in her mind as she drove her horse forward, aligning her body along its back. It kicked forward in response, giving all in protection of its rider. As they leapt between the trees, Sarah chose her moment and soon leapt from her saddle up into the branches. Her dusty clothes would be hidden in the dry autumn-like colours of the scrub. It would give her much needed time to think and plan.

The Riders were soon racing beneath her tree. Her horse had swerved off to the side, and she knew it would be close by. Without the sound of her flight to guide them, the Riders circled the area warily, shouting jeering words in hissed tones.

"You'll never sssurvive."

"You cannot ssstay hidden forever."

"We ssshall have you."

But their jeers went unanswered. Tense minutes passed, until the Riders, impatient for their quarry, grew restless.

"Where is ssshe?"

"Ssshe cannot have essscaped."

"There are no marksss on the other ssside of the treesss."

"Ssshe mussst ssstill be here."

"Asssk the little man."

"Where is ssshe?"

"I dinna know," the one they called little man replied, his voice deep with the brogue, "I's not a seer."

"You owe usss blood!"

"I owe you nuttin'!"

"You promisssed the girl."

"Tis' not me fault yer lost her. I pointed the way. Nuttin' said 'bout sniffin' her out."

"Enough. Give usss blood or perisssh."

"There isss little blood in him."

"It ssshall sssufficcce."

Sarah could see through the trees the glint of a dagger being unsheathed from its leather scabbard. It was clear from their words that there was one who knew about her disguise, and had been able to lead the Riders to her. Part of her wanted to let the Riders murder the evil conspiring bastard. The other part, that tiny precious corner that still believed in right and justice and fairy tales, remembered a once treacherous hobgoblin who became a trusted friend. Sarah sighed, and the forest sighed with her as if in mournful communion. She had no illusions as to the lack of honour in whatever creature had betrayed her. But she intuitively understood the value of a life-debt. Her decision made, she used what small reserves of energy she had left to call upon her disguise. She had no desire to reveal herself to these fiends, and her altered appearance would unbalance them, giving her an advantage.

The air whispered about her, the mask caressing her face as a soft welcome breeze. She cast about for a victim, when by happy coincidence a Rider nudged his horse forward to rest under her tree = the better to see the imminent killing of the little man. The Rider sat with greedy anticipation upon his restless mount, unaware of the danger above. Sarah was slow to reach down, feeling the tug at her core as the fire within began to hunger. Her fear that the attempt to steal energy would fail immediately turned to fear that she would be unable to control the burn. She had barely touched her fingertip to the scaled skin of his neck when he began to slouch in the saddle. All at once his energy flowed into her like an inferno, and she wondered if her would be captors could hear the roaring flames, or feel the unbearable heat. He slumped forward, the movement breaking contact between them. Sarah could have sobbed with relief. The intensity of the exchange made her feel as if liquid nitrogen were being poured through her veins. How cold, and yet how scorched, she felt!

"Rafar?" one of the other Riders queried of their unconscious comrade.

Sarah wasted no time. She leapt from her perch. There would be time later to process her feelings. Right now, she needed to save herself.

"He sleeps," she said imperiously, lowering the tone of her voice.

The Riders took in the figure before them.

"Who are you?"

"Where isss the girl?"

"You trespass," Sarah replied, ignoring their demands, "Leave, else perish."

They let out harsh cackles, "It isss you who ssshall perisssh!"

Sarah smirked. She raised her hands and the ground rippled dangerously beneath the demonic horses. The Riders looked perturbed but held their ground. When they did not fall back, she called then upon the waters deep underground. It burst forth, and in a trice Sarah created a whirlwind of water, air and sand. The horses reared back but the Riders remained, too used to dark magic to be afeared of the elemental power Sarah showed. It was then Sarah called upon fire, and with the flames blazing created great dozens of glass shards as thick as tree branches and as long as a man is tall. Thus done, she turned them in symphonic harmony toward the Riders, the sunlight reflecting its beams from the shards in all their deadly glory.

"Leave else perish," she commanded again.

The Riders sneered at her, but chose the wiser path.

"Leave the little man," she added, as they turned to go.

"He isss our prissson-"

The one who spoke found a single glass shard tip dragging dangerously along his throat. He gulped, but with an angry gesture motioned for the little man to be released. Sarah did not remove her eyes from the Riders, and so could only perceive peripherally that the man was indeed little and strangely green.

"Yah!" the Riders called to their mounts, leaving behind them a cloud of dust as they departed the forest.

Sarah watched them go, waiting until they were out of sight to release the glass shards. She thought perhaps to dismantle them, but thought better of it and instead drove them into the ground just beyond the forest's edge. A reminder for any other who sought to travel north with mal intent. She had no doubt tales would spread of a mysterious and elemental magician. Thus she turned to the little man.

He looked mightily displeased. On second inspection she could see that he was not green, but dressed in it. He was also very little, not even knee height. His hair was red and his black boots shiny.

"Are you a leprechaun?" she wondered aloud.

He eyed her warily, "I be."

_Clearly not the friendly type_, she thought, _little bit murderous actually._

"If ye don't mind me askin'," his tone civil, "But, where be the girl?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him, and with a shrug dropped her disguise in response. The little leprechaun took one look at her appearance and turned away. She thought for a moment he would run away, but he did not. Instead, he threw his little hat down and with an angry stomp began to curse and rage to the high heavens in a thick Irish brogue.


	18. Chapter 18

Hello. Sorry its been so long. I started a new job at the beginning of the year and its been rather busy. Fear not, the story is not forgotten. Just delayed slightly. Thanks for the reviews and your PMs. Its lovely to know you're liking the story. Cheers!

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Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Mid - 1986 - 10 years - c1 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.5 years - c3 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.8 years - c5 (S)

Late-1986 - ~11 years - c7 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.2 years - c8 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.4 years - c9 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.5 years - c11 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.7 years - c13 (S)

Late-1986 – 11.9 years – c15 (S)

Late 1986 – 11.9 years – c17 (S)

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Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.5 years - c6 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.9 years - c10 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c12 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c14 (J)

Early-1987 – 13 years – c16 (J)

**Mid 1987 – 13.1 years – c18 (J)**

**Chapter 18**

In barely a six-month since the Stone King had first made his debut at court, The Stone Kingdom was fast becoming a place of significant attraction Underground. Word of the abilities of the Stone King and his Heir was fast spreading now where once rumours hinted, first-hand evidence proved. Veiled requests to visit from various dignitaries arrived every day. Such caused Willem to scowl while the Stone King would laugh heartily and tease the young Heir with promises of pretty debutants from which to make a bride. Jareth knew that interest in the new kingdom would be good for the fledgling state. Trade and travel between realms always enriched the people. But for Jareth, it was a source of increasing tension with each day Toby remained beyond his circle of protection. That his efforts to woo the stubborn Sarah were met with strong resistance did nothing to improve his equanimity.

Sarah was not immune to his charms. With every flirtatious glance and teasing remark, he could see the tell-tale signs of a blush gracing her cheek and the way her lips pursed just so, as if in anticipation of meeting his own. But hell and damnation if she still wasn't the most stubborn chit he had ever met. She just would not budge. He hadn't even managed to clasp her hand in his and press his lips to the tender skin there, let alone steal a proper kiss. There he would be, in all his glory, the white feathers of his cape fluttering softly in the night air – a veritable Fae bloody King, and what did she do? Bristle at him with suspicion. It both amused an infuriated him to see her hackles rise, but it went against all his careful planning.

He had started slowly. A rose plucked from the garden. A slight compliment. A lingering glance. He would stand near her, flustering her at times with his presence and think he had gained ground, only to find his efforts in vain as her courageous stubborn streak arose with every attempt at seduction. He then acted with more boldness, thinking to catch her off guard. Surprising her in the stables again one evening he had more or less cornered her and had been moments away from sweeping her into his arms and thoroughly kissing away all her defences… then one of the horses, in its wisdom, had leant its great head between them as it let water. To add insult to injury, some had splashed upon his boots. Humiliating.

Between his attempts at seduction, he had also tried to follow her. But his duties as a guest more often than not prevented such an endeavour. That, and Willem had a strange habit of popping up whenever Sarah was about. The Heir's conveniently coincidental appearance on such occasions leant credit to Jareth's supposition that the boy felt for the girl. He did not know, however, how Sarah felt about the boy. He could only assume that their stations, Heir and servant girl, meant the boy could only indulge in his desire to be her white knight, for he could never be her lover. It was unheard of to consort with the servants. A mistress was acceptable, yes, though one could not present her publically at the dinner table. But take a servant to bed? Ludicrous! One might as well sleep with the pigs!

His suppositions on that relationship were soon scuppered. One day, upon wandering the maze-like halls of the fortress (he appreciated the irony of being lost in another's riddle), he came upon Lady Mahryssa attempting to gain access to what were clearly the royal Heir's private quarters.

"Lady Mahryssa," greeted he with an exaggerated bow, topped with a smug grin.

She had startled, clearly having not heard him though his boots clicked on the stone tiles, "King Jareth."

"Lost?" he asked.

"Hardly," she replied with a toss of her hair, "I was invited."

Jareth smiled widely, his answer soft but certain, "Liar."

She startled again, apparently not having expected to be so openly contradicted.

"Neither lost, nor invited," Jareth tutted, "Perhaps desperate? I have certainly been on the receiving end of such female wiles as the type you are attempting," he taunted, "And, just between you and I, dear lady," he sneered, biting out the last words, "I doubt your attempt would be successful. It certainly was not successful with me."

"That is because you are without honour!" she snarled, all civility dissipating.

"You should know, _my lady, _for it seems neither are you! You were a fool to deny me!"

"I would have been a fool to allow one so unworthy in every way to become a Queen, let alone of the Labyrinth!"

Her laugh was short and sharp, "Ha! Which is why you were cast out of the courts as the unworthy one and not I. Oh how I have learned my lesson."

"Ah, but 'twas thy Lord saved you," Jareth mocked, hand over heart, "Dare I ask what pretty _price_ you paid for his assistance? Shall I guess? I can only imagine what useless _treasure_ one outcast by even the unworthy Goblin King could _possibly_ offer… over and over again no doubt. Though I cannot say you have lately seemed so very _satisfied_ with your bargain. Is Master losing his _touch_?" Jareth's words were pointed, the insinuation clear.

"How dare you speak to me that way!" she cried, flouncing away with a final angry shriek.

His feet followed after her of their own accord, the bile rising up within him intending to release its angry tension upon one deserving whilst the opportunity presented itself.

"How dare you call yourself a lady," Jareth sniffed dramatically.

"You will rue the day you crossed me," she warned in return, "Mordred-"

"- Isn't here," he sneered.

"But he will be!" crowed she.

"Then shall you cower behind him?"

"Better to cower behind him, than cower before him upon your knees!"

"So you have been on your knees before him, have you?" Jareth rejoined quickly, revelling in allowing the worst of his nature to reign free.

Her hand shot out a the merest shadow of magical energy alighted upon her fingertips as she made to slap him. It was less than nothing to him and he batted it away carelessly. Her position as Mordred's _femme fatale _may have bought her influence, but it did not make up for her lack of magical ability beyond her skills in blood magicks. Not to mention the dampening power of the sea. No, her only power lay in her alliance with Mordred – and he was not here.

Jareth ope' his mouth to continue the verbal onslaught, "You – ," but was hushed by the soft echo of footsteps approaching.

He stepped into the shadows, followed swiftly by Lady Mahryssa; a silent and very temporary treaty between them. They watched as a hooded figure stepped up to the door of Willem's rooms. The figure knocked then peered about the darkened hallways. Jareth pressed further back into the shadows, wary of being seen despite the darkness surrounding him. Yet even as he was cloaking in shadow, the hooded figure stood in the clear light of the door and he could well see Sarah's face peeping out from beneath the hood. She turned back to the door, and it opened as if from within, though no one appeared in its frame. She slipped through, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

"That girl! She… she is a sevant! It is simply unheard of!"

Lady Mahryssa was all that was observant, he noted dryly to himself, though he did not deign answer her. Neither did he take his leave of her. He simply turned and walked away.

The next morning, Mordred arrived.


	19. Chapter 19

Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Mid - 1986 - 10 years - c1 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.5 years - c3 (S)

Mid - 1986 - 10.8 years - c5 (S)

Late-1986 - ~11 years - c7 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.2 years - c8 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.4 years - c9 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.5 years - c11 (S)

Late-1986 - 11.7 years - c13 (S)

Late-1986 – 11.9 years – c15 (S)

Late 1986 – 11.9 years – c17 (S)

Late 1986 – 12 years – c19 (S)

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Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.5 years - c6 (J)

Early-1987 - 12.9 years - c10 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c12 (J)

Early-1987 - 13 years - c14 (J)

Early-1987 – 13 years – c16 (J)

**Mid 1987 – 13.1 years – c18 (J)**

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Two years. It had been two years since Sarah had taken Toby and fled from the threat of separation to a world where they fled the threat of death. If Sarah could go back and warn her younger self of the dangers untold she would face Underground, she wondered if her younger self would have listened. Probably not. She was as headstrong then as she remained headstrong now. But, she reflected, that stubbornness was tempered by wisdom and experience.

Two years, she wondered. Two years since she had spoken to Hoggle or Sir Didymus. To be sure only six months had passed Above. But still, two years below for her and for them in truth. She wondered if they worried for her, or if they thought she had forgotten them, or if they even remembered her after all this time. The Underground was a place where you could easily forget your troubles. It was something about the magic of the world around her that made her forget, and only when she sat down to contemplate such things did she recall the pang of guilt at leaving everything behind.

"Ye'll get wrinkles, lass," Gavyn teased, coming up behind her, "Thems deep thoughts."

Sarah smiled back, "Someone around here has to have deep thoughts."

"Ay have deep thoughts!"

"Ay," Sarah mimicked, "Deep in the cleavage of any passing female!"

Gavyn grinned and gave her a slap on the back, "Don't be desrespectin' yer elders, lass. Tis poor karma!"

"Sure it is. How's Toby?"

"With the sea wenches," Gavyn harrumphed, his long standing grudge against murderous Sirens turning his face into a frown.

"He's safe with them."

"For now. I dinna like ter think of what'll happen when he's a man."

Sarah shrugged, "It'll be some years yet. For now, they are his best protection."

"Ay," Gavyn grudgingly agreed, "Speaking of protection, the leprechaun wishes to talk," his aged teeth flashed dangerously, "No doubt the wee man wishes to leave his wee prison!"

Sarah rolled her eyes. The leprechaun she had captured seemed honour-bound to her word when she had saved him from the Riders. So she had ordered him to follow her back to camp. When he had refused to talk, even to speak his name, he had been locked within a small chest. It was an unpleasant punishment for a creature who enjoyed his freedom.

"We can talk to him after dinner," Sarah said dismissively, knowing better than to put herself at the whims of a prisoner.

Gavyn nodded, "A fine idea. Have ye given much thought to the fortress?"

Sarah rolled her shoulders, willing away the tension of leadership, "I've ridden around it and there are no signs of habitation. But you can never know. Its built into the side of a cliff. Who knows how deep the inside goes into the mountainside?"

"Seems ter me ter be empty. 'Tis a crumbling ruin."

"The external structures certain are, but the main buildings seem solid. I wonder when it was built," Sarah cocked her head thoughtfully, "Its surprising that it even exists. I thought this was a wasteland."

Gavyn spat on the ground, a nasty habit but one he did when speaking of unpleasant things, "T'wasn't always barren. A great war was fought and the land suffered fer it. Tis why the spillin' of blood is anathema Underground – there is life in the blood, and in spilling life, there is death."

Sarah felt a shiver crawl down her spine at Gavyn's ominous tone. She had not spoken of how she had stolen life from the Rider. The thought chilled her whenever she remembered that hellish moment. It haunted and shamed her, and so she pushed the memory away and refused to think of it, let alone speak it aloud.

"There will be others," Gavyn added after a moment, breaking the silence as the sun set over the lands.

"Others?"

"Riders," he explained, "The group that caught ye up, t'were only scouters. They'll be havin' friends."

Sarah frowned, irritated by the neverending count of mounting enemies against her and the growing community she and Gavyn had led into this wilderness in search of peace, "We need to do something, decide something. We can't just continue on as a caravan."

"The fortress-"

"Is a possibility," Sarah granted, "But a risk. It could hold a dragon for all we know."

Gavyn laughed, "Dragons be rarer than that. An' they prefer the mountains, lass. We had greater chance of bein' eatin' by the great lizards when we were at the caves."

Sarah goggled at him, mouth agape as Gavyn laughed even harder at her.

After dinner they made their way to the tent where the leprechaun was being held. Ludo accompanied them, along with two others to act as guards. The show of force seemed unnecessary though, as he did not resist them as they removed him from his makeshift prison, though he did take the opportunity to cautiously stretch his cramped limbs.

"Ye be willin' ter talk? Answer our questions?" Gavyn asked gruffly.

The leprechaun replied with a sullen nod, "I be," he vowed, his word becoming his bond.

Gavyn regarded him with a critical eye, "Yer name then."

The leprechaun seemed to baulk at the question, his natural defiance demanding he resist any and all. They were contrary creatures by nature, which made them easy enemies, but difficult allies. It was practically unheard of to befriend a leprechaun.

"Your name," Sarah demanded, tired of its insolence.

"I am called Ri-Leith of buiden Orathe."

"Merlin's ma!" Gavyn swore, sitting heavily on a chair as he stared at the little man.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"He's a king!"

"A king?"

Gavyn nodded. Sarah turned to Ludo and the others to see them nod also, affirming Gavyn's words.

"Not the king?" Sarah asked, "There's more than one?"

"Stupid girl," the leprechaun sneered, "Know you nothing?"

"I know I can introduce you to several _lovely_ ladies who would be more than happy to take care of you once and for all!" Sarah snapped back, "You're the one whose been giving us trouble, haven't you?"

The leprechaun shifted in his place, "I do not understand you."

"Don't play stupid!"

"Ye have to be specific, lass. He be playin' wit yer words," Gavyn advised, then turned to the leprechaun, "When exactly did yer begin yer tricks on us?"

"Since _she_ saved me!" it sneered angrily.

Sarah shook her head, "That wasn't long ago. What do you mean."

"I mean what I mean," Ri-Leith sniffed haughtily, crossing his arms.

Gavyn wasn't fooled, "When did she first save you?"

"From the Rider!" he howled, unable to avoid answering directly given his word.

"When was that?" Sarah demanded, catching on quickly to his attempt to avoid answering a direct question directly.

"After yule," it admitted bitterly.

Sarah thought for a moment and soon the realisation hit, "The little man in green!"

"You remember saving him?"

"It was when the Riders attacked. I didn't even mean to save him –", the leprechaun snorted at that, "I was running through the trees and then there was a Rider. I just sent a rock flying at him and kept running…" she trailed off, "All this time… you were trying to hurt us – you couldn't just say thank you?"

Every magical creature in the tent shuddered at Sarah's faux pas. She rolled her eyes. There were a few things she missed from Above. A simple thank you being one of them.

"Fine," she huffed, "Why'd you do it? And answer me true," she added reflexively, wanting a straight answer for once.

The leprechaun sighed, its shoulders slumping, "The life debt. I owe ye a life debt."

"I hardly think that means you try to kill me," she retorted sarcastically, "Explain yourself."

"Ye saved me life. I owe you a boon. But," the leprechaun paused, "It can be broken with death."

"So what? You can kill me even though you owe me?"

"I can't be killin' ye… but there be a grey area of sorts…" the little leprechaun had the good sense to look sheepish.

"Dishonourable little _terak_," Gavyn grumbled.

"What does a life debt mean? I can ask you to do anything I want?"

"Roughly speakin'," Ri-Leith agreed.

"But you can still harm me?"

Ri-Leith's answer was an inaudible mumble.

"What was that?"

"I can't be hurtin' ye… nowt anymore."

"Why?"

"Because ye saved him _twice_ now_, _lass!" Gavyn guessed as Li-Reith nodded miserably.

"You owe me two boons?" Sarah asked.

He shook his head, "I owe ye me _allegiance_," it spat unhappily.

"We'll have to discuss what that means," Sarah murmured mostly to Gavyn, "I'm beginning to understand what's happening here," she turned back to Ri-Leith, "And if I save you a third time?"

You could hear the little teeth grinding angrily as Ri-Leith bit out his response, "Then, lady, I be owin' ye me _life_!"

The questioning ended soon after, with Sarah leaving thinking that the leprechaun would have been better off leaving things alone. But Ri-Leith wasn't to know that she had been ignorant in the knowledge that she had saved him, albeit accidently. In his mind, he did not wish to wait for a summons from one he was indebted to, to pay a boon of some unknown price. Arranging the death of that individual was a natural choice according to his ways. Fate was against him though, as in the end Sarah would up saving him twice. The whole episode reminded Sarah of her relative ignorance of the Underground and its ways. Feeling a little homesick for a time and place more familiar to her, she wandered away to spend some time with Toby, and maybe sneak in a cuddle with the ever-more independent babe!


	20. Chapter 20

This is turning into something a bit more epic than I had originally planned. This chapter went in another direction as well, but don't worry it'll twist back to where I always planned it to go in the following Jareth chapter. Just took the scenic route.

I'm enjoying the reviews. I love hearing your opinion. Sometimes you're spot on and it makes me want to surprise you! Sometimes you're so far off from my long-term storyline that it really gives me a new perspective in my writing. Its fantastic. I love hearing your opinions on Willem and Sarah and the Stone King. As you can see from the time line, Sarah's story is now at 12 years Underground - which is when Jareth's story first started. At this point, the story is going to pick up as everything comes together.

I'll give you guys a hint: Toby is not in the castle. Our girl is a bit smarter than that. Jareth's kinda underestimating her... but then I think perhaps that's a hazard of being a centuries old magical being. You have a lot of time to puff up your pride and arrogance over the lesser beings., and SPOILER ALERT - It will definitely be the downfall of Mordred in the end.

Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Late 1986 – 12 years – c19 (S)

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Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Mid 1987 – 13.2 years – c20 (J)

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Whilst Mordred's arrival had been expected, none anticipated the almost indecent hour he descended upon them. Barely has they finished breakfasting when the great doors opened to reveal the unseelie group, headed by the devil himself. His entourage was large and menacing, and Jareth saw hidden beneath the robes any number of weapons. He wondered again at the sanity of the Stone King who allowed those with whom he was not allied to be so armed within his own walls. Still, there was little he could do about such things.

"Greetings," the Stone King called out from his perch at the head of the table.

Apparently the old king was unbothered by the unannounced arrival and certainly quite literally not bothered to stand on ceremony. He had remained seated where protocol dictated he stand in greeting. Many eyes boggled at the insult, deliberate or no. Jareth contained a smirk as Mordred's face twitched with repressed offence.

"Your highness," Mordred drawled, "Allow me to-"

"Oh it's no bother," the Stone King interrupted cheerfully, "You're quite forgiven for the earliness of the hour. Why! I doubt we even have your rooms prepared."

Jareth nearly choked on the honeyed mead he had been sipping.

"Willem? Have we got the boy's rooms prepared?" the Stone King asked easily, apparently unaware of the tension he had caused.

"We have certainly made preparations for the horses," Willem replied in all seriousness, "Though I'm afraid with the recent excitement, we had left the room's preparations till the last moment. The staff ought be finished with them in the next few hours."

The Stone King gave a satisfied nod, "There! All's well that ends well! You shall have your rooms in good time, young sir. Though I do say," and here he wrinkled his nose, "You appear quite dirty from your travels."

The gathered struggled to maintain their composure. The Stone King was an acknowledged eccentric, though his unnerving ways had been mostly accepted with some amusement. But the dark aura of Mordred made them warier in their festivities. There were solemn days ahead.

Despite the insults to his person, Mordred bowed with a mild expression of looking forward to refreshing himself. Jareth observed all with interest, and wondered at the amused glances between the Stone King and his Heir as the great doors closed. He knew them but little. His days had been spent both negotiating with any number of kingdoms as well as searching for Sarah, and through her Toby. The Stone King remained an enigma to him and the Heir… the Heir largely irritated him.

He couldn't say he felt a lover's jealousy over Sarah's impromptu visit to the royal chambers. In truth, his lack of discernment bothered him more so than the fact. He had simply discounted the possibility of any relationship between the girl and the Heir. That he had been proven wrong and quite literally ruffled his feathers. It had clearly ruffled Lady Mahryssa as well. The woman was going to great lengths to establish a relationship between herself and the Heir, even going so far as to spread small tales of secret trysts and unspoken promises to a select few. Jareth had little doubt she would eventually play the seduced victim, attempting to force an alliance. With only her word for it, he doubted her success. Besides that, he had his own Heir to find.

He had spent too long searching and still he had no greater clue to Toby's whereabouts than when he first arrived. It was maddening. There was little time left, for he had his own kingdom to return to and without his Heir safe at his side for the coming war he would be forced to take drastic measures. He sighed. He had hoped Sarah would prove more accommodating but since she had proven stubborn he was indeed forced to drastic measures.

He searched for her. For days he searched for her but to his great irritation she was nowhere to be found. It helped not that the blasted Heir Willem looked at him with a knowing eye. The scrutiny angered him further and drove him to search even more desperately. His travails were unsuccessful, and he found himself one day in the very spot where he had first seen her. Where could she be?

"Ah, King Jareth. I had hoped to have a moment with you."

Jareth, ever composed, turned to give Mordred the slightest of bows, "Prince."

"So curt… eous," Mordred taunted, the black of his lips revealing jagged teeth hidden behind a handsome face.

Jareth remained silent.

"I have something of yours," Mordred said congenially, "Or rather, I should say, _someone_."

It was unnervingly to the point and so unlike the fae that Jareth could not prevent the slightest of flinches from escaping. Mordred laughed, and it was all Jareth could do to grit his teeth and _will_ it not to be possible.

"Can you ever think of whom it might be?"

There was nothing to say but allow Mordred to play his hand.

"He sends his greetings."

So it was a he, Jareth thought miserably.

"And gave me this."

Mordred produced a paper from the inner pocket of his robe. Jareth took it with caution, seeing it to be a worn scrap of paper. But it was unlike the papyrus of the Underground, and so he could only presume it had come from Above. He unfolded it to see the images of a smiling girl and infant looking at him from the dull yellowed page. The word RUNAWAY emblazoned beneath their pictures.

"You have them?" Jareth asked carefully, watching Mordred within his peripheral vision.

"Yes."

Jareth wanted to tear the unseelie's black heart from his chest. All his hopes, all his plans, were in the hands of a true monster. He couldn't fathom how he had lost so much to his enemy and without any warning. Despair gripped his heart to think they had been snatched from beneath his very nose.

"You will support Lady Mahryssa's claim to bearing the Heir of the Heir of the Stone King."

Mordred did not waste his words in victory. Defeat was bitter to Jareth, but he perversely drew some dark satisfaction from having the right of Lady Mahryssa's machinations. But did Mordred know the Heir had not fallen to them? What story had Lady Mahryssa told her Lord of her one-sided affair? Perhaps she had described him an unwilling suitor - one that needed to be bullied into such a bond? It was doubtful that any of it was the truth though Jareth supposed it was not in his interests to share such information with the bastard before him and he was ever practical. He had been defeated but in one so long lived as he, he knew it was but one battle, and the war not even begun. He would regroup. Mordred wanted the Stone Kingdom, but could not take it by force. The salt and sea diminished their kind too much to wage a proper battle. So it had come down to trickery. But what to do now?

"Why do you want the Stone Kingdom? It is a wasteland," Jareth was reaching for time more than an answer. He could easily guess what Mordred wanted.

"A trifle really," Mordred replied carelessly, "It borders my lands. Though no knight, bishop, castle or queen, it remains within the power of others to use its proximity against me. I shan't be brought down by simple arrogance in ignoring a well-positioned pawn."

Jareth doubted the Stone Kingdom were a pawn, given the unprecedented powers of its rulers. Mordred clearly thought otherwise. Perhaps he thought them magicians of parlour-tricks rather than the elemental mages they were proving to be? Still, while the growing power of the fledging rulers gave him the briefest of pauses, the Stone Kingdom did not hold his Heir hostage.

"I will give credence to Lady Mahryssa's claim."

His word was his bond.

Mordred nodded, "See that you do."

"And the children?"

There was no point pretending he cared little for them. There was too much at stake.

"Shall be yours." Mordred grinned before turning and taking his leave.

Jareth could have sighed with relief. Mordred knew the children were important to him, but the price he asked was not one demanded when bargaining with an Heir. He had missed a key piece of information. It would be his downfall. As he had underestimated the Stone Kingdom, so did Mordred underestimate Jareth. It was likely he supposed the children to have been stolen away by Jareth for his own amusement – not an uncommon practice amongst the unseelie. Jareth was certainly considered by many seelie circles to be too ruthless for their tastes. Yet too he was not cruel enough for the unseelie. He could only hope his outcast status continued to assist his Heir.


	21. Chapter 21

Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Late 1986 – 12 years – c19 (S)

**Early-1987 - 12.4 years – c21 (S)**

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_**Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)**_

Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Mid 1987 – 13.2 years – c20 (J)

* * *

**Chapter 21**

The fortress loomed large in the dusky sunset, a black shadow against the approaching night.

"Ta da!" Sarah preened, "What do you think?"

Gavyn stood stunned at the abilities of the girl before him. The once crumbling ruin now stood as a mighty castle o'er the barren wasteland. Turrets looked down upon them as great stone sentries over an inner bailey, where row upon row of buildings of all shapes and sizes were guarded by thick, high walls of hardened desert sand. It was a grand sight, to see a city rise from the sands, ready to be peopled. One could almost hear the welcome in the gentle sounds of the ocean lapping at the cliffs below.

"Ye done me proud, girly," Gavyn conceded, "Tis' a fine work."

There were mutterings of agreement from the rest of the group. Sarah's work to restore the fortress and its inner township was impressive. It had challenged her abilities to manipulate not only the elements under her command, but to also consider how the finished product would withstand the weight it had been built to hold. Months had passed, and it had been a tiring learning process, but she had persevered till the result stood before them. Now the artisans would work to make the insides liveable. They would add plumbing, flooring, walls, furniture and windows – though Sarah was keen to improve upon her glass-making skills as well. Tomorrow the families would come to claim their place in one of the buildings, and make that building a home. All in all, their small rag-tag band had grown into a community that now had a place to call their own. No longer refugees, but citizens.

"What'll yer call it?" Ri-Leith wondered, puffing on a small pipe.

"Call it?"

"Well, it's a city, ain't it? It needs a name. The castle too."

Sarah and Gavyn looked dumbfounded. Gavyn spoke first.

"Eh, I haven't quite considered…"

"It has to be something good," Sarah added.

"How about SarahLand?" one of the group called out.

"No," Sarah deadpanned.

"The Sandy City?" said another.

"Narnia?"

"Oh merlin," Sarah muttered, "Look," she spoke up, "Let's just get everyone on in and settled. We'll have a think about it, and then decide."

There were more mutterings of agreement from the group as they turned back toward the camp. Several suggested more names under their breath as they went, causing Sarah and Gavyn to wince with each one. As they lay in bed that night, try as they might, neither Sarah, nor Gavyn, could conjure an acceptable name for their new home.

Not that this weighed upon their mind as the weeks passed. There was much to do to make their new city liveable. Plumbing was installed to deal with waste. Defensive mechanisms built into the walls and battlements, including large heavy city doors. Truly the doors weren't needed, as either Sarah or Gavyn could merely close it with the sand. Still, a city gate was tradition and was installed with a great sense of pride by all the people. The marketplace boomed with goods as the fishermen, hunters, farmers, carpenters and others met to trade their wares. Slowly Underground currency made its way into transactions, a fact that Gavyn approved of.

"Building an economy is hard enough without bringing in a new currency!" he chortled, "Plus it makes it easier to tax. Imagine everyone bringing in 10% of their catch. The fish'd stink up th' place in no time."

"You do realise I never finished school and have no clue what you're talking about?" Sarah quipped.

"Ye'll learn lass. Practical experience is a hard teacher, but the only true way anyone learns."

"There's time," Sarah replied wistfully, "I've spent so long trying to just survive with Toby, the cave dwellers and now all this," she motioned to the city from her perch in the window of the fortress, "Sometimes I just want to be alive without working so hard at it."

"I am sorry, lass," Gavyn sympathised, "I ferget ye be a young woman, despite yer face. Ye have done a good work and deserve yer rest."

"Which is why I'm stepping down as pseudo-leader."

"What?! But lass-"

"It's what I want. I want to spend time with Toby, and to enjoy the Underground. I'm in a magical land of fairies where dreams really come true. Heck, I can _do _magic."

"But ye called ter this. Tis in the stars."

Sarah winced, recalling another time and place where stars were in her eyes and another's song, "If that is so, the stars can wait. I was never asked to lead anyone, and I never intended to. It just happened. I'm not planning to leave. I just don't want the responsibility of everyone looking to me for answers, or because I happen to have some powerful magic at my disposal."

"So who then? Who to replace ye?"

"You, of course, Gavyn. You're the true leader anyhow," Sarah said simply.

"I be a humble advisor," Gavyn joked.

"You have taught me everything," Sarah replied in all seriousness.

Gavyn could naught but accept her words with an air of defeat, "Aye, lass," he said, wiping a tired hand over his face, then he smiled, "No thanks be needed."

Sarah laughed, "Of course. But I appreciate it all the same."

"I still want ter teach ye, girl. There is much ter be taught, and there mun be one ter be my apprentice."

Sarah's nod was her agreement.

"Merlin, ye both make me sick wit yer sentimentals," Ri-Leith interrupted.

Both Gavyn and Sarah shot the leprechaun a dirty look. He only chuckled, unremorseful for causing any mischief.

"We will be havin' company come the full moon," Ri-Leith revealed, "I be sensin' it."

"Who?" Gavyn inquired.

"Mere diplomats," Ri-Leith shrugged.

Sarah nodded, "I've seen them, as have some of the farmers. They've kept an eye on us for some time."

"Unseelie?"

Sarah nodded her answer to Gavyn's question, "Not Riders, either."

"Ye stay away from them, lass," Gavyn ordered, "Hide yerself. I dinna want them knowin' of ye. They crave power, and ye would be a pretty breeder."

The words were blunt and coarse, and Sarah took their full measure. They would take her, willing or nay, for their stock if they knew of her power. She could only be thankful that the people, now her people, took care with their words. But what of those who were to come? She wondered. New refugees: would they guard her safety as loyally? Or Toby? The thought of betrayal chilled her.

Thus the arrival of the Unseelie envoys came as expected. The streets grew quiet as they passed as the citizens of the town watched on warily. They presented themselves at the court of the fortress, seeking an audience. Ri-Leith met them at the entrance, all insouciant insolence while the dark fae glared down in contempt.

"Where is your King, little-man?" demanded one.

"King?" Ri-Leith was all ignorance.

"Play no games."

"Ye suspend me pleasure. Tis' nowt guest-like," Ri-Leith teased.

The fae put his hand upon his sword. Ri-Leith only rolled his eyes and finished puffing upon his pipe. Another retort came to his lips, but then his eyes found Sarah's. She had hidden herself in the crowd awaiting the Unseelie envoy, and though her face was covered by the hooded cloak she wore, he could feel her expectation. An unpleasant side-effect of his debt to her, it was something she knew not about, and yet by which he was bound. How he hated being bidden by another.

"Right this way, then," he sulked, turning to lead them into the Great Room.

Gavyn sat at a humble dais. Raised only enough to sufficiently see and be seen by the crowd, no large throne decorated the platform, but a practical desk and chair. At his right hand sat a fae of Seelie descent, with white hair and austere features.

"Your highness," the Unseelie greeted politely.

Gavyn controlled a smirk. So he was a king now?

"We are thankful for an audience."

"Aye," Gavyn acknowledged, "And we are happy to host. However, be it as it may that some formalities are required, I dinna see the point pretending. I be of no royal birth and I have no pretensions to fancy behaviour. So let us speak plainly," his words were firm but cordial, brooking no peace nor war, "What is it that ye want?"

The Unseelie took Gavyn's unexpected behaviour into stride, "Merely to break bread and extend the hand of peace."

"Mighty neighbourly of ye," Gavyn replied cheekily, "Alright. We shall allow trade and a visit with yer master-"

"I beg your pardon, my lord, but my master is quite busy and unable to properly attend you."

"When shall he then? Seeing as such is th' point of these proceedings?" Gavyn grumbled, knowing the insult offered.

"It may be some time. In his place, he wishes to send one dear to him."

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"Lady Mahryssa, my lord."

Gavyn sat back in his chair, and Sarah wondered from her place if, and what, he had heard of said Lady.

"You shall no doubt enjoy her company. She is a Lady of many talents," the Unseelie praised, then turning to the fae beside Gavyn saying, "And perhaps you too shall find enjoyment in her company."

Gavyn's eyes narrowed, "We shall welcome her then."

If the Unseelie thought it strange that the fae did not reply to them when spoken to so directly, they had the graciousness to hide. Still, they supposed that one seated so closely to the apparent King of this fledging kingdom, could only be one who had his ear. Thus they marked him, and would be sure to report his presence back to their master.

"Our Lord also wishes to have you as his guest at the High Court. The marriage of Lord Gavyn-" Gavyn snorted at the coincidence, "-and Lady Margo shall occur and there is a month of festivities planned."

"Indeed," Gavyn replied dryly.

"If I might speak freely, I hope you do not think me out of turn to impart that another engagement may also ensue…"

"Oh?"

"Yes. Word is that the Goblin King is taken with the Lady Lian."

Sarah stifled a gasp at the news. The Goblin King was to be married? Could it be that she and Toby would be safe from him? Would he not have his own children and so forget about them?

"How interesting."

"May I tell my Lord of your acceptance?"

"You may."

"Then it is done. Our Lord gives his regards."

"As do we," Gavyn replied.

"If it pleases you, my Lord," the Unseelie spoke uncertainly, "These lands have been barren so long. We have no notion of how we may address you and yours."

Gavyn's eyebrows raised to his hairline. They had yet to come to any agreement on the name of the city – let along the name of the kingdom!

"The Stone Kingdom," the young fae beside him suddenly announced, "And this our King," he added, motioning to Gavyn.

Gavyn did not gape at the fae's audacity. It would be rude.

"And you?" the Unseelie inquired politely.

The fae all but sneered, "Who I may be is not your concern."

The Unseelie could only nod his understanding. With much ado, he bowed to the Stone King and made his exit. There would be no offer of accommodation on this first meeting. But soon their guest would come, and then, Gavyn thought uneasily, there would be a snake within their walls. He looked to Sarah, whom he considered a daughter and wondered how to keep her safe? When she had told him of her desire to step away from her responsibilities he had thought it a loss to their community. Now, he supposed it the best way to keep her safe. After all, out of sight, out of mind. She had much to learn, and had yet to truly match her powers against one of the fae. Here, she could reign easily. The salt, sand and sea kept the Unseelie and Seelie alike humble. But inland, he could not guess how vulnerable she would be. Her place, and her future, was something that required further thought.

"Have you any more need of me?" inquired the young fae whom had sat, mostly quiet, by him the whole while.

The rest of the room by contrast was making its way out the various exits in a rather noisy fashion.

Gavyn nodded, "Aye. I will call if I have need of you. Or any further ideas for naming the Kingdom."

The young fae had the grace to colour, "My apologies. I did not mean to speak out of turn."

"It is done," Gavyn shrugged, "And it does not disagree wit' me, but why the Stone Kigndom?"

The fae looked thoughtful, "I recall you once spoke of how you met the Lady Sarah. Of how she first expressed her abilities," he explained, "It occurred to me that all this started with a volley of stones; stones that killed your enemies and ultimately brought us here."

"It have a certain poetry," Gavyn conceded.

"Tis' lucky," Ri-Leith piped up, having snuck up upon them, "To name victory over yer enemies, an' wit-out them knowin'. I love a good trick."

"If you have no further need of me?"

"Yes, you may go," Gavyn waved away the young fae.

"No ambition, that one," Ri-Leith noted, "No wonder he was cast out. The fae are the trickiest of all."

"I'd say you be trickier," Gavyn rejoined.

"Me? Tricky? Nowt at all. Everyone know how to deal with a leprechaun. But a fae? Mercurial basterds."

Gavyn only hummed his agreement.

"We be havin' another arrival," Ri-Leith stated, stuffing his pipe with some strange purple tobaccy.

"Who might that be?"

Ri-Leith squinted, as if it would help him see through a Veil before his eyes, "I canna get a bead on 'im. He be like vapour. He smells somethin' awful though. Give 'im a bath when he gets here – a long one."

Gavyn perhaps expected a troll or some sort of fetid monster to burst down their doors. He was to be wrong. Three days later, a small figure seated on a small, cowardly stead, came bounding through the city gates. A small soldier, and yet with the mightiest of hearts, he was on a holy quest to rescue his fair Lady.

And so the Stone Kingdom welcomed Sir Didymus to their court.


	22. Chapter 22

Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)

Late 1986 – 12 years – c19 (S)

Early-1987 - 12.4 years – c21 (S)

.

Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)

Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Mid 1987 – 13.2 years - c20 (J)

**Mid 1987 – 13.6 years - c22(J)**

* * *

**Chapter 22**

Jareth had left the Stone Kingdom with a heavy heart. War was upon them all, and his Heir was nowhere safe. He was cornered and without a move to play. All he could do was order his pieces to him and prepare his pawns (goblins) for battle. In time he would have his revenge. For now, he plotted. His little king, Toby, was in the hands of his enemies. Everything he did now he did to protect the boy. He himself he placed as queen in the chessboard of his mind – the most powerful piece in his collection. His goblins were his true power. Though small as pawns, they were a mighty army when amassed. Like a wave of tiny ants, their strength was in their numbers and hardiness. It took quite a lot to kill a goblin.

Sarah was a difficult piece to consider. Not quite a pawn, but no castle, knight or rook. He knew she would want to protect the boy, but how could she against powers she could not defend either herself or Toby from? He was tempted to place her as a rogue pawn in the enemy camp, for all the good she had done! He could have damned the girl to the high heavens for her stupidity. Yet he did not doubt she felt very sorry for not at least trusting him now. She was at Mordred's disposal and it took no great leap of the imagination to suppose he would do what every Unseelie before him had done with mortal women. Mesmerize them, bed them, then discard them. Mordred would consider it a mercy to return Jareth's 'property' mostly unharmed. The boy was at least safe from any sort of physical violation. Even the Unseelie held children sacred.

Months passed, goblins were kicked and Lady Mahryssa began to show in her pregnancy. Rumours of the father flew around the Underground, reaching even the Labyrinth. Any new fae was a blessing Underground, and the world beneath the Above fairly hummed with excitement. Jareth only wondered if the child was truly that of the Heir of the Stone Kingdom, or some other creature's get. After all, what need Mordred of Jareth if the Heir Willem were truly the father? These things he mulled over as he searched the stars for their divine guidance. Days later came the summons, and Jareth noted wryly that his mail clearly held greater messages for him than the moon and stars.

The High Court rarely intervened in matters of state. It was a politic gathering, intended to ensure the health and perpetuity of all things, not to judge or mete out punishment. The birth of a fae was one of these rare times when the High Court imposed its power. Indeed, a new life was a rare and joyous event Underground, and protocol dictated the child, and his or her parentage, be acknowledged by one and all. It certainly seemed as though the entire Underground were there when Jareth arrived.

The High Court buzzed with news of Lady Mahryssa's pregnancy. The Lady herself fanned the flames, ensuring she was seen at various places, her robes hugging the soft curve of her belly. Behind closed doors, secret bets were made as to who would be declared the father. Even more secret were the bets made as to who was the babe's true sire. To his eternal disgust, Jareth himself was one of several considered as a potential donor in these bets. He wisely bet high against the possibility of himself being declared either the father or the true sire.

The morning of the presentation saw the Stone King and his Heir arrive at the High Court. Theirs was a deceptively simple entrance. Though they entered through the palatial doors on foot, they were flanked by the most unusual assortment of creatures. Happily hailing the arrival of his leiges, a small fox terrier led the way upon a shaggy dog. Jareth thought sourly that he knew them as the traitors Sir Didymus and Ambrosius. Behind him marched a small armed guard made up of elves, fae and surprisingly a drow. The guard protected the Stone King and his Heir, Willem. The Stone King seemed rather pleased with one and all, but the Heir was more unreadable to Jareth's eyes. Flanking the Heir was what seemed to be a large, muscular dog. Jareth had never seen its like and wondered what ungodly coupling had created such a monster. Lastly, Jareth was not surprised to see Ludo shambling behind them. Though he had not seen hide or hair of the giant rockcaller during his time in the Stone Kingdom, it was not unsurprising that they had sought out Sarah. Such a pity they couldn't have protected her as well.

The trumpets sounded and the gathered swept into the ballroom in eager anticipation of the presentation. The crowd swelled on either side of the room as Oberon and Titania took their place on the dais. Jareth hated the pomposity of proceedings, and allowed his mind to wander as the many speeches, acknowledgements and admonitions were made. Finally, Oberon called for the Lady Mahryssa and she stepped forward with regal pride on the arm of Mordred.

"I wish to declare new life brought forth in my Ward, Lady Mahryssa De'Nuatha Tayn," submitted Mordred to their majesties.

"And you be the sire?" Oberon was quickly to the point.

"I am not," Mordred replied.

"Then by the Laws of this land," Oberon announced to the gathered crowd, "If the sire of this child be present, speak now to claim your seed and rejoice."

The crowd shuffled but no answer was forthcoming.

"I say again," Oberon spoke, "If the sire be present, speak now, or else risk being accused and accursed for the insult to the unborn. This is the Law."

Nothing.

Oberon sighed, and with a look to Titania set about the unpleasant business of administering the Law. It was not unheard of for a fae to deny a blood connection, and it was always a tedious affair in leaching the truth from those involved.

"Prince Mordred, Lady Mahryssa. Is there one here whom you would accuse as being the seed of this child?"

"There is, my lord," Lady Mahryssa replied, with a glance to Mordred.

"By all means," Oberon waved a hand at her, "Speak his name."

"I accuse the Heir of the Stone Kingdom."

There was expectant silence as the eyes of the gathered turned to the amused face of the Stone King, and the incredulous one of his Heir.

"You lying whore!"

Stunned silence as these words escaped the the Heir of the Stone Kingdom. The crowd was surprised and pleased by the turn of events. They fae were long lived and looked forward to such diversions as this dispute was turning out to be.

"You counter-accuse the Lady, Heir Willem?" Oberon questioned.

"I bloody well do!" came the swift reply.

"Such strange language," Titania murmured beside Oberon, "And such strange magic for a handsome lad."

Oberon shot Titania a sideways look, but carried on, "Have either of you witnesses?"

"We do," Mordred replied, "We call on the Goblin King as witness."

Jareth stepped forth before Oberon with a bow, stating, "I saw the Lady Mahryssa exiting the royal rooms, and she was much in company with the Heir of the Stone Kingdom. Of this much I am aware."

Jareth was also aware of the glare the Heir was sending him, but he paid it no mind. His hands were tied and his own Heir at stake. The boy would just have to get used to politics if he wanted to run a kingdom.

"Have you a witness, Heir Willem?" Oberon inquired.

"I have no witness," replied the Heir, "And I need no witness for I have evidence and present proof of the falsity of this claim."

"What evidence could he possibly have?" Mordred sneered, then more loudly, "I have no doubt in the faithfulness of my Ward. Let the Law judge between them."

Oberon nodded, "If the evidence is unworthy, what penance demand you, Prince Mordred?"

"An immediate marriage between my Ward and the accused, and all that such an alliance entails between our kingdoms."

"And if the evidence is worthy, Heir Willem, what penance demand you?"

"That the Lady Mahryssa's title and lands be stripped from her henceforth, thrice her dowry for the insult delivered to my character this day, the withdrawal of those damnable Riders from our borders who have been harassing my people, and a pledge neither the Lady Mahryssa nor Prince Mordred will ever step foot into the Stone Kingdom again, nor raise any further quarrel with me or mine."

The demands were not unreasonable, but still the crowd gawked at the audacity of the young Heir. His words had set the Stone Kingdom irrevocably against the southern Unseelie provinces in treating, if not outright accusing, the Unseelie Prince as a warmonger. Mordred himself appeared almost animated in his anger, despite the normal grey pallor of his skin.

"The demands are satisfactory. Your evidence Heir Willem."

Jareth saw the Stone King grab Willem's arm, but Willem shrugged him away. The Stone King's usually jovial countenance now betrayed a deep anxiety, and Jareth suddenly knew that something significant was about to happen.

The Heir stepped forward, his pale hair and cloak whipping about him angrily. The air about them grew warm then chilled with such speed that none were left in doubt of the elemental power the Heir was deliberately displaying. They understood that this one would not be trifled with. All looked on with awe as fire burst from his feet to engulf his entire body. The crowd drew back, but the inferno lacked heat and they marvelled at such ability in one so young. With a final roar the fire whipped away upon the wind to reveal the true visage of the Heir.

_She _looked up to Oberon, and in the most polite of tones as when addressing royalty, said, "I am Sarah Williams, lately of the Above and Heir of the Stone Kingdom, and as you see it is quite impossible for me to have _sired_ anyone's child!"

* * *

Next up - Sarah's timeline catches up to this chapter.


	23. Chapter 23

Sarah's timeline catches up with Jareth's. We will find out what she's been doing as its jumped a year in the story, but really she was just doing boring stuff like fortifying her kingdom and being a leader as well as putting up with Mordred's shenanigans with Lady Mahryssa.

**Time Above - Time Below - Chapter (S/J)**

Late 1986 – 12 years – c19 (S)

Early-1987 - 12.4 years – c21 (S)

**Mid 1987 – 13.6 years c23 (S)**

.

Early-1987 - 12.2 years - c4 (J)

Late-1986 - 12 years - c2 (J)

Mid 1987 – 13.2 years - c20 (J)

Mid 1987 – 13.6 years - c22(J)

* * *

**Chapter 23**

At Sarah's words there was a moment of utter, stunned silence. In those brief moments Sarah saw Lady Mahryssa's terror as her eyes flickered to Mordred. The dark fae himself was glaring with disbelief and no little calculation as he realised his folly. Oberon and Titania looked grim. Those crowded in the hall did not even breathe.

Then Jareth disappeared, winking away in but a moment.

Then pandemonium.

With a shout, Mordred flung Lady Mahryssa away from him and into the arms of his henchman with but a wave of his hand. Sarah broadened her stance on instinct as Gavyn too stepped into stance beside her. Behind them, Ludo, Rin and their entourage fanned out, watching their backs and protecting their flanks. The military training over the past year took over, and all acted in unity on instinct. They were right to do so, Sarah thought, as Mordred implement his 'Plan B'.

"Saw that coming," Gavyn grumbled as dark fae revealed themselves within the crowd, "Thank Merlin evil bastards are predictable."

Mordred himself ignored the fighting between the light and dark fae nobles as he whipped a cord of dark magic at them. His strong, sensuous movements brought the crackling line down between Sarah and Gavyn, seeking to divide and conquer. They did not hesitate, stepped aside to avoid the impact and closed ranks again; an efficient manoeuvre. Gavyn had been preparing them ever since their first foray into fae nobilia.

Twelve months ago they had been escorted at the insistence of Mordred to the wedding of Lady Margo to Lord Gavyn in the capitol of the Underground. The palace and its surrounds were an uninhabited city used only to bring together the dark and the light on occasions of great importance. The celebration of life, love and magic determined such meetings. These things were the sacred pillars of existence, and from these came the Law.

"But I want to go!"

Even Sarah, who had become a seasoned warrior and elemental warlock recoiled from the whine in her voice.

"Ye be little more than a toy ter 'em, lass," Gavyn warned, "They be powerful immortal, and the Law dinna look kindly on mortals Underground."

"You know I can disguise myself," she'd argued.

"Matter's nowt. Boy, girl, the fae take what they like."

"I know that," Sarah grumbled, "Don't you think I can handle myself?"

Gavyn gave her a long look before sighing, "Against the nobility? I canna say."

It had been a hard truth. The fae were powerful magical beings. Gavyn could not know how elemental magic would stand in the face of their unspeakable magics. Thus had the military training begun in earnest. Every able body in the kingdom conscripted, either willingly into the standing army, or obliged by duty to their monarch, the Stone King, as reserve. All needed to know how to fight and defend.

As they fought and defended now.

Mordred had turned away, now attacking Oberon. Titania too had winked away, her powers, though great, not suited for such ugly battles. Gavyn and Sarah shared a brief glance before launching attacks at Mordred, forcing flames to lick across the floor. He turned and dispelled the fire, allowing Oberon's attack through his guard. Mordred pivoted at the last second and the crackling blue ribbon glanced off his chest, burning away the silk robes to reveal shining armor beneath. At the same time, Mordred sent a stream of bright orange toward Sarah and Gavyn. The magic sizzled through the air and its tendrils burned any in its path. They leapt back, but the moment the orange landed at their feet the ground exploded in a thick, choking mix of firey dust and earth.

"The roof," Gavyn instructed Sarah, and she could not but agree.

They could not hold their ground forever. Better to end this melee quickly and regroup than continue to battle Mordred, whom had spent months planning this moment. Their combined motions saw large cracks develop in the great hall. Many realised the danger and began streaming out of the hall, dark and light fae fighting eachother every step of the way. Oberon and Mordred continued their deadly dance. Too powerful or too arrogant to care that the world was soon to fall down about them. Thus with a great pulling motion, the heavy structure caved in on itself. Sarah and Gavyn directed the implosion as best they could toward Mordred.

It was a mess. Tonnes and tonnes of marble and other heavy materials could not be contained by only two, and outside they could hear the shouts of those caught in the chaos. Nor could they continue to try. With a command the group took flight to the exits now opened to them – now great gaping holes in what was once a magnificent palace. They remained in formation, fighting off both dark and light fae as best they could. They were yet strangers with no formal alliances and neither side would at this moment trust them on the battlefield. So they doggedly fought their way to the edge of the fighting before escaping completely through the great gates of the city.

"Night will fall soon," Sarah gasped through her fatigue.

"We cannot stop," Gavyn huffed, trudging beside her, "Tis nowt safe and we have no provisions…" he looked askance at Sarah, "And they know about ye now lass."

Sarah sighed, "All good things."

"Aye," Gavyn agreed, "But tis nowt the very end. Ye still be my Heir. The title will protect ye from the worst of harms. But ye be a young mortal, and the Underground prizes love, life and magic. Ye…" he paused, "Mortals be more fertile than the fair-folk. Be prepared me girl."

Sarah took the advice in with a nod. She was not unaware of her value as a bride. She'd not had her blinkers on whilst living Underground. Twelve months ago Gavyn had told her he would name her his Heir to protect her. The convoy from Mordred had shown them that they could no longer hide in the desert. Their numbers had become too large. Too large for them to hide. Too large for others to ignore. And while Sarah had always remained hidden, her role in leading the community required a more permanent solution. After all, hidden things are eventually found. But by adopting the protocols of the fae and assigning noble status, they could present a united front. No longer would they be considered a motley band of refugees, but as a people. With Gavyn their King and Sarah the Heir, under the disguise she had taken on so long ago, the fae would understand them to be a kingdom.

"I know Gavyn," Sarah replied, "Lets just focus on getting out of here."

A sound to her right and Sarah snapped to attention. The group had fled to the woods and had been carefully picking their way westward. The more cowardly dark fae fled before them, having acted on Mordred's orders to disrupt the court and now looking to save their own skins. They were after all still very near Oberon and Titania's territories and the thought of their armies was just as frightening as their actual presence. All out war had erupted. Mordred had sought to corrupt the Law and an unborn life to his own ends. An unholy thing Underground.

A voice called out to them. Peace, said he, and Friend. A veritable white flag. Sarah looked to Gavyn, who stepped forward with a cautious welcome. A flame was light and in the darkness all Sarah could see were the mismatched eyes that had haunted her every step since that fateful night.


End file.
